Driving Part 4 Rated R, Bones Slash - Booth/Zack
Booth thinks he can rid himself of Zack.
Driving
Part 4
by mispel
Booth opened his eyes to Zack's face. Zack was leaning over him. Booth blinked in confusion. After he grabbed a pen from Booth's nightstand, Zack sat back against a pillow. Booth quickly figured out that it was morning, he was home, and Zack was in bed with him.
"What are you doing?" Booth asked. He wanted to say "what are you doing here", but cut himself off. He rubbed his eyes in the hopes that Zack would go away.
"Updating my list," Zack told him. Booth saw that Zack had a crumpled piece of paper and was smoothing it out against his naked thigh. Booth rubbed his eyes some more because there was a naked squint in his bed. Had to be a dream. One of those wacky dreams where your mother turns into a pterodactyl.
When Booth looked again, Zack was still naked, still in his bed, and scribbling.
"You are doing this now?" Booth looked at the clock to figure out what time 'now' was. He scratched his head trying to wake up.
"I'm underlining 'talking dirty'," Zack said as he wrote, unperturbed by Booth's general demeanor, which was that of a pissed off bear woken early from hibernation.
Booth looked over Zack's disturbingly naked shoulder to peek at the list. He noticed something.
"Driving? Are you serious?" Booth asked.
"I am always serious."
"Yeah. Put sense of humor on the list."
"I have a sense of humor. It's very advanced. You promised to teach me to drive." Zack's robot voice did nothing to bolster his claim to having a sense of humor.
Booth vaguely remembered mentioning something about teaching Zack to drive. But it was post sex in the dirt so he tried to scrub it out of his memory.
"That was a joke. If you had a sense of humor, you would know that. Definitely put sense of humor on the list. And what happened to your 'if you knew what I know about bla nerd bla'..." Booth had checked out halfway through Zack's lame reason for not learning how to drive.
"How difficult would it be to have sex in a moving car?" Zack asked.
"Not difficult as long as you are prepared to die a horrible, fiery death."
"What about cruise control?"
Booth grunted, keeping his eyes averted from Zack and his nakedness. Looking at so much of Zack's pale, exposed skin made him want to get things going again. Zack did have a corner of the sheet over his hips. Instead of cooling him off, the sheet was just a tease. Booth wanted to slide his hand underneath it. He wanted to pull Zack down and make him... Zack was scribbling his list oblivious to the way Booth wasn't looking at him. Booth glanced at the list again. It only held more inspiration.
"Some of those..." Booth tapped the list with his finger. "I am not the amazing human pretzel."
"Those are mainly for experimental purposes."
"Experiment? Is that what this is?" Booth asked off hand. The question was more for himself than for Zack. Booth stared off into space. It would explain everything. Booth was just experimenting, making sure he didn't like sex with squints. That he was no squintosexual.
"What is this?" Zack asked as he slapped the space on the bed between them. The unblinking squint stare caught Booth off balance. Zack kept staring. Booth realized he actually wanted an answer. Booth switched gears.
"What is this? This is over," Booth said, all business. He kicked off the sheet, which had wrapped around his leg, and got up. Zack still sat against the pillows staring at him, pen in hand. He looked ready to take notes. Lesson one - how to kick someone out of bed.
Zack's eyes followed Booth as he went to the bathroom. He shut the door. As Booth relieved himself, he wondered if Zack would take the hint and leave. Booth doubted it. He would have to spell it out, tell him to get dressed, throw him his clothes. He thought he could feel Zack's stare on the back of his head, right through the bathroom door as he splashed water on his face. Then Booth heard his front door slam. Stepping out of the bathroom, he saw that Zack and all his clothes were gone.
"Good," Booth said to the empty room. The room didn't look convinced.
After a few tension-filled days of not finding Zack on his doorstep, in his car, or in his bed, Booth started to relax a little. Sometimes things like that just blew over, and life got back to normal. But he couldn't be sure. It was weeks before anything Bones worthy came across Booth's desk. Actually it came into his ear as a ticked off US Marshal told him all about a fugitive who was captured with a ziplock bag full of severed fingers. The human fingers contained human finger bones that belonged to God knows who and came from God knows where. The fugitive wasn't talking. The bag was thrown to Booth, and he decided to throw it to Bones once the lab guys got everything they could from the flesh.
For a second before it opened, the glass door of the Jeffersonian showed Booth his own reflection. Everything was good - he didn't look at all like a guy who could be doing Zack. Booth smiled as he entered the cold, transparent place.
He presented the ziplocked fingers like a bag of treats, and that's how it was received by everyone except Zack. Instead of the usual ghoulish, annoying, boyish, approval-seeking, social skill lacking Zack, there was a snotty, ice cold Zack. He didn't look at Booth once. Zack's tone was clipped and hostile. Everyone kept staring at him. Hodgins stared extra hard. Way to be covert, kid.
Zack looked grim while Booth related the particulars of the case and handed over some files. Zack barely waited for him to finish before he found something to do elsewhere. He walked by Booth, deliberately looking straight ahead.
"What got up his..." Hodgins started to ask.
"So I should expect some results when?" Booth interrupted, desperate to stay off of the subject of asses.
Bones gave him a timetable, and Hodgins didn't take his eyes off him. Booth decided to get out of there before Hodgins cornered him. He watched Zack approaching with his head in a file, pretending not to see him. He brushed against Booth and said nothing. Booth raised an eyebrow and watched Zack go to stand with Hodgins. They stood in squint solidarity, their giant noggins close, voices low. Their sharp looks drilled holes into Booth's back as he was leaving.
Once Booth was gone, Jack started asking questions.
"OK, what did he do?"
Zack kept staring at the glass doors. Jack kept talking.
"Whatever it was, don't take it personally."
"What do you mean don't take it personally?" Zack asked for a moment forgetting that Jack didn't know what he was talking about.
"If he said something... You know how he is. We intimidate him. Anything with a brain intimidates him. But he's an OK guy. Deep down. Deep, deep down. Deep, deep, deep down."
Zack's eyes fell closed. He stopped listening.
The first time, in the dirt, Booth looked out of control but he wasn't. He was driven but still in charge. Zack remembered the way Booth seemed angry and also like he might start laughing. Zack could feel the weight of Booth's body after he slumped on top of him - heavy, spent, crushing him. Zack's mind focused completely. He could see Booth in bed, lying back, looking at him. Dropping his eyes down Booth's body, he saw him swallow, his chest go up and down, his organ, heavy and thick waiting for Zack to wrap his fingers around it and bring it to his mouth.
Zack dropped what he was doing and rushed out of the lab. He half ran down the corridor until he caught up with Booth. He grabbed Booth's sleeve. He took a deep breath.
Booth turned. He was faced with a mad looking Zack.
"What?"
"In here," Zack ordered. Ordered? Booth rubbed his forehead.
Zack swung open a heavy side door. His stern finger pointed at a darkened utility area. Leading the way he stalked down the hallway without checking to see if Booth followed. Booth smirked behind his back. Booth considered standing his ground, but his curiosity wouldn't let him. Maybe it was even something other than curiosity. Booth followed.
Halfway down the passageway, Zack stopped and turned. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He tried again. Then he gave up and rushed at Booth. The surprise attack pressed Booth into a wall. Zack's negligible strength couldn't hold him there. Booth pushed back easily pressing Zack into a piece of machinery, something that might have been an air compressor.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like?" Zack asked as if he didn't know himself.
"It looks like you've lost your mind," Booth knocked against Zack's skull like he was checking a melon for ripeness.
"I can get to you," Zack threatened. Booth did his best not to laugh. That wasn't easy while Zack tried to be intense.
"I say this ends, it ends," Booth told him while doing a way better job being intense. Zack's eyes were big.
"You have an erection."
"So I'm a little..."
"Hard as a rock. Getting harder. I want it." Zack actually pointed at Booth's crotch like there could be any doubt what he meant.
"You're a little slut," Booth accused lightly.
"That's dirty talk, isn't it?" Zack said, and his eyes brightened. "Should I call you a slut? A whore? A man-whore?"
"For the love of all that is sexy, don't talk." Booth was horrified at the onslaught of his inexperienced enthusiasm. Zack started rubbing him through his pants.
"You said I should talk dirty."
"I was wrong," Booth groaned.
The machine behind Zack kicked in making them jump. Zack jerked toward him, pushing against him. Booth didn't think he could get any harder. Booth fell against Zack, pressed his ass to the machine which was shaking. Zack said something, but the pounding noise drowned him out. The vibrations carried through Zack into Booth. Booth held still then started grinding into him. Zack clawed at Booth's shirt. He was losing it, and though Booth was losing it too, he enjoyed the sight.
The machine noise drowned out everything. Booth felt like he had gone deaf, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat going crazy. Zack started to pant, and Booth stepped back. As soon as he let him go, Zack unzipped his fly. Booth did the same. Booth turned him around, pushed up his lab coat and pulled down his pants. They were barely off his ass before Booth was inside him. He didn't have long.
The machine thumped a violent rhythm as Zack was slammed up against it. Booth matched it. Zack was so loud Booth could hear him over the noise. Zack was writhing. Finished, Booth fell back against the wall. He slid down. Zack pulled on himself, staining the still thudding machinery. Zack dropped down, crawled over, and threw himself on top of Booth. He said something in Booth's ear, but Booth still couldn't hear him. He didn't care. Zack was kissing him. He barely moved just let Zack's lips and tongue do what they wanted. He could tell him it was over later.
To be continued
Driving
Part 4
by mispel
Booth opened his eyes to Zack's face. Zack was leaning over him. Booth blinked in confusion. After he grabbed a pen from Booth's nightstand, Zack sat back against a pillow. Booth quickly figured out that it was morning, he was home, and Zack was in bed with him.
"What are you doing?" Booth asked. He wanted to say "what are you doing here", but cut himself off. He rubbed his eyes in the hopes that Zack would go away.
"Updating my list," Zack told him. Booth saw that Zack had a crumpled piece of paper and was smoothing it out against his naked thigh. Booth rubbed his eyes some more because there was a naked squint in his bed. Had to be a dream. One of those wacky dreams where your mother turns into a pterodactyl.
When Booth looked again, Zack was still naked, still in his bed, and scribbling.
"You are doing this now?" Booth looked at the clock to figure out what time 'now' was. He scratched his head trying to wake up.
"I'm underlining 'talking dirty'," Zack said as he wrote, unperturbed by Booth's general demeanor, which was that of a pissed off bear woken early from hibernation.
Booth looked over Zack's disturbingly naked shoulder to peek at the list. He noticed something.
"Driving? Are you serious?" Booth asked.
"I am always serious."
"Yeah. Put sense of humor on the list."
"I have a sense of humor. It's very advanced. You promised to teach me to drive." Zack's robot voice did nothing to bolster his claim to having a sense of humor.
Booth vaguely remembered mentioning something about teaching Zack to drive. But it was post sex in the dirt so he tried to scrub it out of his memory.
"That was a joke. If you had a sense of humor, you would know that. Definitely put sense of humor on the list. And what happened to your 'if you knew what I know about bla nerd bla'..." Booth had checked out halfway through Zack's lame reason for not learning how to drive.
"How difficult would it be to have sex in a moving car?" Zack asked.
"Not difficult as long as you are prepared to die a horrible, fiery death."
"What about cruise control?"
Booth grunted, keeping his eyes averted from Zack and his nakedness. Looking at so much of Zack's pale, exposed skin made him want to get things going again. Zack did have a corner of the sheet over his hips. Instead of cooling him off, the sheet was just a tease. Booth wanted to slide his hand underneath it. He wanted to pull Zack down and make him... Zack was scribbling his list oblivious to the way Booth wasn't looking at him. Booth glanced at the list again. It only held more inspiration.
"Some of those..." Booth tapped the list with his finger. "I am not the amazing human pretzel."
"Those are mainly for experimental purposes."
"Experiment? Is that what this is?" Booth asked off hand. The question was more for himself than for Zack. Booth stared off into space. It would explain everything. Booth was just experimenting, making sure he didn't like sex with squints. That he was no squintosexual.
"What is this?" Zack asked as he slapped the space on the bed between them. The unblinking squint stare caught Booth off balance. Zack kept staring. Booth realized he actually wanted an answer. Booth switched gears.
"What is this? This is over," Booth said, all business. He kicked off the sheet, which had wrapped around his leg, and got up. Zack still sat against the pillows staring at him, pen in hand. He looked ready to take notes. Lesson one - how to kick someone out of bed.
Zack's eyes followed Booth as he went to the bathroom. He shut the door. As Booth relieved himself, he wondered if Zack would take the hint and leave. Booth doubted it. He would have to spell it out, tell him to get dressed, throw him his clothes. He thought he could feel Zack's stare on the back of his head, right through the bathroom door as he splashed water on his face. Then Booth heard his front door slam. Stepping out of the bathroom, he saw that Zack and all his clothes were gone.
"Good," Booth said to the empty room. The room didn't look convinced.
After a few tension-filled days of not finding Zack on his doorstep, in his car, or in his bed, Booth started to relax a little. Sometimes things like that just blew over, and life got back to normal. But he couldn't be sure. It was weeks before anything Bones worthy came across Booth's desk. Actually it came into his ear as a ticked off US Marshal told him all about a fugitive who was captured with a ziplock bag full of severed fingers. The human fingers contained human finger bones that belonged to God knows who and came from God knows where. The fugitive wasn't talking. The bag was thrown to Booth, and he decided to throw it to Bones once the lab guys got everything they could from the flesh.
For a second before it opened, the glass door of the Jeffersonian showed Booth his own reflection. Everything was good - he didn't look at all like a guy who could be doing Zack. Booth smiled as he entered the cold, transparent place.
He presented the ziplocked fingers like a bag of treats, and that's how it was received by everyone except Zack. Instead of the usual ghoulish, annoying, boyish, approval-seeking, social skill lacking Zack, there was a snotty, ice cold Zack. He didn't look at Booth once. Zack's tone was clipped and hostile. Everyone kept staring at him. Hodgins stared extra hard. Way to be covert, kid.
Zack looked grim while Booth related the particulars of the case and handed over some files. Zack barely waited for him to finish before he found something to do elsewhere. He walked by Booth, deliberately looking straight ahead.
"What got up his..." Hodgins started to ask.
"So I should expect some results when?" Booth interrupted, desperate to stay off of the subject of asses.
Bones gave him a timetable, and Hodgins didn't take his eyes off him. Booth decided to get out of there before Hodgins cornered him. He watched Zack approaching with his head in a file, pretending not to see him. He brushed against Booth and said nothing. Booth raised an eyebrow and watched Zack go to stand with Hodgins. They stood in squint solidarity, their giant noggins close, voices low. Their sharp looks drilled holes into Booth's back as he was leaving.
Once Booth was gone, Jack started asking questions.
"OK, what did he do?"
Zack kept staring at the glass doors. Jack kept talking.
"Whatever it was, don't take it personally."
"What do you mean don't take it personally?" Zack asked for a moment forgetting that Jack didn't know what he was talking about.
"If he said something... You know how he is. We intimidate him. Anything with a brain intimidates him. But he's an OK guy. Deep down. Deep, deep down. Deep, deep, deep down."
Zack's eyes fell closed. He stopped listening.
The first time, in the dirt, Booth looked out of control but he wasn't. He was driven but still in charge. Zack remembered the way Booth seemed angry and also like he might start laughing. Zack could feel the weight of Booth's body after he slumped on top of him - heavy, spent, crushing him. Zack's mind focused completely. He could see Booth in bed, lying back, looking at him. Dropping his eyes down Booth's body, he saw him swallow, his chest go up and down, his organ, heavy and thick waiting for Zack to wrap his fingers around it and bring it to his mouth.
Zack dropped what he was doing and rushed out of the lab. He half ran down the corridor until he caught up with Booth. He grabbed Booth's sleeve. He took a deep breath.
Booth turned. He was faced with a mad looking Zack.
"What?"
"In here," Zack ordered. Ordered? Booth rubbed his forehead.
Zack swung open a heavy side door. His stern finger pointed at a darkened utility area. Leading the way he stalked down the hallway without checking to see if Booth followed. Booth smirked behind his back. Booth considered standing his ground, but his curiosity wouldn't let him. Maybe it was even something other than curiosity. Booth followed.
Halfway down the passageway, Zack stopped and turned. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He tried again. Then he gave up and rushed at Booth. The surprise attack pressed Booth into a wall. Zack's negligible strength couldn't hold him there. Booth pushed back easily pressing Zack into a piece of machinery, something that might have been an air compressor.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"What does it look like?" Zack asked as if he didn't know himself.
"It looks like you've lost your mind," Booth knocked against Zack's skull like he was checking a melon for ripeness.
"I can get to you," Zack threatened. Booth did his best not to laugh. That wasn't easy while Zack tried to be intense.
"I say this ends, it ends," Booth told him while doing a way better job being intense. Zack's eyes were big.
"You have an erection."
"So I'm a little..."
"Hard as a rock. Getting harder. I want it." Zack actually pointed at Booth's crotch like there could be any doubt what he meant.
"You're a little slut," Booth accused lightly.
"That's dirty talk, isn't it?" Zack said, and his eyes brightened. "Should I call you a slut? A whore? A man-whore?"
"For the love of all that is sexy, don't talk." Booth was horrified at the onslaught of his inexperienced enthusiasm. Zack started rubbing him through his pants.
"You said I should talk dirty."
"I was wrong," Booth groaned.
The machine behind Zack kicked in making them jump. Zack jerked toward him, pushing against him. Booth didn't think he could get any harder. Booth fell against Zack, pressed his ass to the machine which was shaking. Zack said something, but the pounding noise drowned him out. The vibrations carried through Zack into Booth. Booth held still then started grinding into him. Zack clawed at Booth's shirt. He was losing it, and though Booth was losing it too, he enjoyed the sight.
The machine noise drowned out everything. Booth felt like he had gone deaf, and all he could hear was his own heartbeat going crazy. Zack started to pant, and Booth stepped back. As soon as he let him go, Zack unzipped his fly. Booth did the same. Booth turned him around, pushed up his lab coat and pulled down his pants. They were barely off his ass before Booth was inside him. He didn't have long.
The machine thumped a violent rhythm as Zack was slammed up against it. Booth matched it. Zack was so loud Booth could hear him over the noise. Zack was writhing. Finished, Booth fell back against the wall. He slid down. Zack pulled on himself, staining the still thudding machinery. Zack dropped down, crawled over, and threw himself on top of Booth. He said something in Booth's ear, but Booth still couldn't hear him. He didn't care. Zack was kissing him. He barely moved just let Zack's lips and tongue do what they wanted. He could tell him it was over later.
To be continued