Leverage
Title: Leverage
Fandom: Bones.
Pairing: Angela/Hodgins.
Rating: NC-17.
Spoilers: Minor one for "Man in the Cell".
Disclaimer: Due to the fact that you have yet to see Booth pin Bones up against a wall, clearly I do not own either of the characters.
Author's Notes: See, I had my angelahodgins ficathon story all plotted out, but I waited until the last minute to write it. And then...the new episode premiered. And I COULD NOT let the "leverage" comment slide. So here you are: spur-of-the-moment smutty goodness. It was quite a pleasure to write, and I hope it's just as much of a pleasure to read!
~*~
"This was a great idea, hun," Angela murmurs in Brennan's ear. Brennan perks up.
"Thank you!" she says enthusiastically, her best friend's sarcasm completely lost on her. Angela rolls her eyes and settles back into her seat.
They all tease her about her lack of knowledge of all things current, and usually Brennan shrugs it off - if she was even listening in the first place. But sometimes she gets on this kick where she wants to do all sorts of "normal people things". Yesterday it was bowling (a disaster); today it's going to the movies (getting there). An action movie was the only thing playing by the time they got there. Booth, sitting on the end of the row, is watching stony-faced as bullets fly back and forth between the good guys and the bad guys. Brennan is to his right, watching in awe, as if she's never seen a movie before. Knowing Brennan, however, that wouldn't be much of a surprise.
Angela sits between Brennan and Hodgins, with Zack all the way on the left muttering about the film's scientific inaccuracies. And Hodgins...well, Hodgins is taking full advantage of the darkened theatre. His hand has been inching along the inside of her thigh for the last half an hour. She leans over, her mouth right against his ear.
"You move that hand any higher and you're gonna have a lot of explaining to do," she murmurs, nodding her head to the others who are, as of yet, completely unaware. Hodgins grins, twisting so that his lips are now to her ear.
"Hey, I've got nothing to be ashamed of," he replies. He shifts closer, nuzzling her neck, the rasp of his beard tickling the sensitive skin there. His hand slips higher.
"Hodgins..." she warns. His thumb flicks out, pressing directly against the seam of her jeans. When she stands, it's awkward and abrupt, but none of the others seem to notice. "I've gotta go to the bathroom," she announces. Still no reaction. For five minutes (he measures by his watch, the time feeling much much longer), Hodgins stays in his seat, biting his lip. He doesn't bother to offer an excuse for his departure. Booth shoots him a knowing glance, but he ignores it on his way out of the theatre.
He finds Angela leaning against the wall next to the bathrooms, eyes on her watch. When she sees him, she shoots him a naughty grin. Hodgins is unsure whether he should be excited or scared. Without a word, she grabs him by the front of his shirt and, with a furtive glance around the deserted lobby, pulls him into the men's bathroom, heading directly for a stall.
The click of the lock echoes through the bathroom, but all Angela can hear is the blood rushing in her ears.
Hodgins wastes no time - he shoves her up against the side wall, hands pinning her hips firmly in place. Angela groans deep in her throat, fingers groping desperately for something to cling to. She finds his face, and tugs it even closer to her own. Her fingers sink into his hair, pulling the curls away from his scalp as she struggles desperately to hold on. The sound Hodgins emits is somewhere between a moan and a growl. Angela pulls away giggling.
"What was that?" she exclaims. Hodgins nips at her throat.
"A very, very manly display of affection?" he tries. The statement only makes Angela break out into giggles again. Her body shakes as she laughs, and Hodgins presses closer, loving the feel of her body warm and writhing against his own. His hands drift up under her shirt to cup her breasts, brushing his thumbs across her nipples, hardened beneath a layer of lace. Angela kisses him gently, then with more force. Her tongue slips between his lips, hot ant wet.
Hodgins moves his hands back down, tickling her sides. He smiles at the sound of her laugh and kisses her neck, keeping up his assault as he undoes his buckle and hikes her shirt up around her waist. They're so lost in each other that they almost don't hear the footsteps of another theatre patron entering the restroom.
"Oh, shit!" Hodgins hisses. Angela's eyes are wide and panicked when they look into his. But just as quickly, she takes matters into her own hands, wrapping her legs around his waist. Their groin smash together, and Angela swallows his moan with a kiss.
"Now we see if that 'leverage' comment from the other day holds any weight," she murmurs. Hodgins grins.
"Oh, you'd better believe it, baby," he responds. The anonymous footsteps move to a stall three doors away from the one they're currently occupying. Angela stifles another giggle.
Hodgins moves forward, swiftly, intent on silencing that giggle. He shoves her skirt aside, fingers traveling up her thighs to grab the thin straps of her thong. Without preamble, he rips it from her body, shoving it his back pocket. Angela fishes a condom out of her bra and hands it to him, her breath too heavy to force out coherent words.
Hodgins tucks it back into place. "Not yet," he murmurs in her ear. With that, his hands slide down her arms to her hands, which he pulls over her head, showing her to grasp the top of the stall partition. "Hold on tight," he instructs. His hands go all the way from her knuckles to her ankles, making Angela's body quiver. She bites her bottom lip in an attempt to stop from crying out. Gently, Hodgins slides her shoes from her feet, hanging them by the straps on the door handle. She frowns in confusion as he places her now-bare feet against the opposite wall.
Then Hodgins bends slightly at the knees, fingers clutching the firm globes of her ass, and touches his tongue to her clit. Angela's entire body spasms, and her feet make the metal bend outward with a clang, but she stays silent. Hodgins licks up and down the slit of her labia, tracing nonsensical patterns. She's sopping wet and her thighs clench unconsciously around his head, covering his ears so that all he can hear is the pounding of her pulse. The folds of her skirt fall down around him, leaving him in darkness - she's all around him, saturating him.
With each stroke of his tongue, Hodgins feels Angela's muscles tighten and contract. He keeps going, until she's coiled so tight that he's sure she must be in knots. He pulls away completely, and she can't stop her grunt of frustration. The stranger in the other stall clears his throat, oblivious. Angela's eyes are hazy and unfocused, and her grip on the wall is weakening, so Hodgins straightens, holding her there himself, sandwiched between himself and the unyielding metal. His thighs are burning from the strain of keeping them in this position, but he's determined to prove his worth, even if he wobbles a little as he wriggles his pants and boxers down his ass. He plucks the condom from its place and tears into it, sliding it onto his erection. He nearly comes just from the light touch.
"You ready?" he asks Angela. She just nods, burying her face in his neck. Hodgins takes her by the thighs, steering her, and when he slips inside of her it's slow and easy and she sighs breathily, just as their companion flushes. Angela's fingers clutch at the base of his neck as his hands take the place of hers holding onto the wall. He slides in and out of her, both of them gasping and shuddering. They hear footsteps, the rush of tap water, and more footsteps, then silence, and Hodgins isn't positive that they fooled their friend from the other stall, but at this point he can't seem to make himself care. His mouth moves to meet Angela's, kissing her long and deep. The rhythmic rocking doesn't last very long, and within what seems like mere seconds they're both slamming noisily into the wall.
On their way down from the high of orgasm, Hodgins stumbles backwards, until the backs of his thighs hit the toilet. He plops down onto the seat, Angela landing in his lap. She smiles, laying small kisses on his neck, his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, his lips.
"Remind me never make fun of your height ever again," she gasps.
Fandom: Bones.
Pairing: Angela/Hodgins.
Rating: NC-17.
Spoilers: Minor one for "Man in the Cell".
Disclaimer: Due to the fact that you have yet to see Booth pin Bones up against a wall, clearly I do not own either of the characters.
Author's Notes: See, I had my angelahodgins ficathon story all plotted out, but I waited until the last minute to write it. And then...the new episode premiered. And I COULD NOT let the "leverage" comment slide. So here you are: spur-of-the-moment smutty goodness. It was quite a pleasure to write, and I hope it's just as much of a pleasure to read!
~*~
"This was a great idea, hun," Angela murmurs in Brennan's ear. Brennan perks up.
"Thank you!" she says enthusiastically, her best friend's sarcasm completely lost on her. Angela rolls her eyes and settles back into her seat.
They all tease her about her lack of knowledge of all things current, and usually Brennan shrugs it off - if she was even listening in the first place. But sometimes she gets on this kick where she wants to do all sorts of "normal people things". Yesterday it was bowling (a disaster); today it's going to the movies (getting there). An action movie was the only thing playing by the time they got there. Booth, sitting on the end of the row, is watching stony-faced as bullets fly back and forth between the good guys and the bad guys. Brennan is to his right, watching in awe, as if she's never seen a movie before. Knowing Brennan, however, that wouldn't be much of a surprise.
Angela sits between Brennan and Hodgins, with Zack all the way on the left muttering about the film's scientific inaccuracies. And Hodgins...well, Hodgins is taking full advantage of the darkened theatre. His hand has been inching along the inside of her thigh for the last half an hour. She leans over, her mouth right against his ear.
"You move that hand any higher and you're gonna have a lot of explaining to do," she murmurs, nodding her head to the others who are, as of yet, completely unaware. Hodgins grins, twisting so that his lips are now to her ear.
"Hey, I've got nothing to be ashamed of," he replies. He shifts closer, nuzzling her neck, the rasp of his beard tickling the sensitive skin there. His hand slips higher.
"Hodgins..." she warns. His thumb flicks out, pressing directly against the seam of her jeans. When she stands, it's awkward and abrupt, but none of the others seem to notice. "I've gotta go to the bathroom," she announces. Still no reaction. For five minutes (he measures by his watch, the time feeling much much longer), Hodgins stays in his seat, biting his lip. He doesn't bother to offer an excuse for his departure. Booth shoots him a knowing glance, but he ignores it on his way out of the theatre.
He finds Angela leaning against the wall next to the bathrooms, eyes on her watch. When she sees him, she shoots him a naughty grin. Hodgins is unsure whether he should be excited or scared. Without a word, she grabs him by the front of his shirt and, with a furtive glance around the deserted lobby, pulls him into the men's bathroom, heading directly for a stall.
The click of the lock echoes through the bathroom, but all Angela can hear is the blood rushing in her ears.
Hodgins wastes no time - he shoves her up against the side wall, hands pinning her hips firmly in place. Angela groans deep in her throat, fingers groping desperately for something to cling to. She finds his face, and tugs it even closer to her own. Her fingers sink into his hair, pulling the curls away from his scalp as she struggles desperately to hold on. The sound Hodgins emits is somewhere between a moan and a growl. Angela pulls away giggling.
"What was that?" she exclaims. Hodgins nips at her throat.
"A very, very manly display of affection?" he tries. The statement only makes Angela break out into giggles again. Her body shakes as she laughs, and Hodgins presses closer, loving the feel of her body warm and writhing against his own. His hands drift up under her shirt to cup her breasts, brushing his thumbs across her nipples, hardened beneath a layer of lace. Angela kisses him gently, then with more force. Her tongue slips between his lips, hot ant wet.
Hodgins moves his hands back down, tickling her sides. He smiles at the sound of her laugh and kisses her neck, keeping up his assault as he undoes his buckle and hikes her shirt up around her waist. They're so lost in each other that they almost don't hear the footsteps of another theatre patron entering the restroom.
"Oh, shit!" Hodgins hisses. Angela's eyes are wide and panicked when they look into his. But just as quickly, she takes matters into her own hands, wrapping her legs around his waist. Their groin smash together, and Angela swallows his moan with a kiss.
"Now we see if that 'leverage' comment from the other day holds any weight," she murmurs. Hodgins grins.
"Oh, you'd better believe it, baby," he responds. The anonymous footsteps move to a stall three doors away from the one they're currently occupying. Angela stifles another giggle.
Hodgins moves forward, swiftly, intent on silencing that giggle. He shoves her skirt aside, fingers traveling up her thighs to grab the thin straps of her thong. Without preamble, he rips it from her body, shoving it his back pocket. Angela fishes a condom out of her bra and hands it to him, her breath too heavy to force out coherent words.
Hodgins tucks it back into place. "Not yet," he murmurs in her ear. With that, his hands slide down her arms to her hands, which he pulls over her head, showing her to grasp the top of the stall partition. "Hold on tight," he instructs. His hands go all the way from her knuckles to her ankles, making Angela's body quiver. She bites her bottom lip in an attempt to stop from crying out. Gently, Hodgins slides her shoes from her feet, hanging them by the straps on the door handle. She frowns in confusion as he places her now-bare feet against the opposite wall.
Then Hodgins bends slightly at the knees, fingers clutching the firm globes of her ass, and touches his tongue to her clit. Angela's entire body spasms, and her feet make the metal bend outward with a clang, but she stays silent. Hodgins licks up and down the slit of her labia, tracing nonsensical patterns. She's sopping wet and her thighs clench unconsciously around his head, covering his ears so that all he can hear is the pounding of her pulse. The folds of her skirt fall down around him, leaving him in darkness - she's all around him, saturating him.
With each stroke of his tongue, Hodgins feels Angela's muscles tighten and contract. He keeps going, until she's coiled so tight that he's sure she must be in knots. He pulls away completely, and she can't stop her grunt of frustration. The stranger in the other stall clears his throat, oblivious. Angela's eyes are hazy and unfocused, and her grip on the wall is weakening, so Hodgins straightens, holding her there himself, sandwiched between himself and the unyielding metal. His thighs are burning from the strain of keeping them in this position, but he's determined to prove his worth, even if he wobbles a little as he wriggles his pants and boxers down his ass. He plucks the condom from its place and tears into it, sliding it onto his erection. He nearly comes just from the light touch.
"You ready?" he asks Angela. She just nods, burying her face in his neck. Hodgins takes her by the thighs, steering her, and when he slips inside of her it's slow and easy and she sighs breathily, just as their companion flushes. Angela's fingers clutch at the base of his neck as his hands take the place of hers holding onto the wall. He slides in and out of her, both of them gasping and shuddering. They hear footsteps, the rush of tap water, and more footsteps, then silence, and Hodgins isn't positive that they fooled their friend from the other stall, but at this point he can't seem to make himself care. His mouth moves to meet Angela's, kissing her long and deep. The rhythmic rocking doesn't last very long, and within what seems like mere seconds they're both slamming noisily into the wall.
On their way down from the high of orgasm, Hodgins stumbles backwards, until the backs of his thighs hit the toilet. He plops down onto the seat, Angela landing in his lap. She smiles, laying small kisses on his neck, his jaw, his cheek, his forehead, his lips.
"Remind me never make fun of your height ever again," she gasps.