#017 Steam Rising (Brennan/Booth)
Title: Steam Rising
Fandom: Bones
Characters: Brennan/Booth
Prompt: #017 Think & #000 steamy / shower
Word Count: 180
Rating: T+ (mild adult themes)
Summary: The steam coming form under the door of Brennan’s bathroom torments him.
Notes: Written for fanfic50 and openmoments. October 14.
The steam coming from under the door of Brennan’s bathroom torments him. It’s warm - thick and warm - and it sends his imagination on overdrive.
Despite his best attempts to stop them, snatches of images flash through his mind.
Brennan. Water. Steam. Bubbles. Soap.
Brennan with water pouring down her bare back.
Steam rising above her.
Soap bubbles lining her shoulders and the nape of her neck and lower, lower, lower.
Her skin, wet with moisture.
Her hair, damp and slick.
Her lips.
He is so caught up in his fantasy for want of a better word that he doesn’t notice the water turn off.
When the door knob finally turns and the door opens, he almost stumbles into her.
“Booth? What are you doing?” She looks at him in mild amusement.
He straightens up, readjusts his shirt and pretends he wasn’t just listening to her shower, that he wasn’t just daydreaming about her and indulging himself in the type of thoughts that if she knew about she’d probably hit him for.
“Nothing,” he says, his voice husky. “Nothing at all.”
Fandom: Bones
Characters: Brennan/Booth
Prompt: #017 Think & #000 steamy / shower
Word Count: 180
Rating: T+ (mild adult themes)
Summary: The steam coming form under the door of Brennan’s bathroom torments him.
Notes: Written for fanfic50 and openmoments. October 14.
The steam coming from under the door of Brennan’s bathroom torments him. It’s warm - thick and warm - and it sends his imagination on overdrive.
Despite his best attempts to stop them, snatches of images flash through his mind.
Brennan. Water. Steam. Bubbles. Soap.
Brennan with water pouring down her bare back.
Steam rising above her.
Soap bubbles lining her shoulders and the nape of her neck and lower, lower, lower.
Her skin, wet with moisture.
Her hair, damp and slick.
Her lips.
He is so caught up in his fantasy for want of a better word that he doesn’t notice the water turn off.
When the door knob finally turns and the door opens, he almost stumbles into her.
“Booth? What are you doing?” She looks at him in mild amusement.
He straightens up, readjusts his shirt and pretends he wasn’t just listening to her shower, that he wasn’t just daydreaming about her and indulging himself in the type of thoughts that if she knew about she’d probably hit him for.
“Nothing,” he says, his voice husky. “Nothing at all.”