Bones - Of Lust and Sloth
Title: Of Lust and Sloth
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Bones
Characters: Cam, Sweets
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 465
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Prompt by tokenblkgirl: Cam/Sweets, sin
Summary: “What’s your favorite sin, Sweets?”
Author’s Note: Posted in response to this fic meme. No beta because I’m dumb bold like that, so feel free to point out any mistakes.
“What’s your favorite sin, Sweets?”
He chokes a bit on his beer when Doctor Saroyan asks the question, not quite sure how they got into this kind of discussion. They’re alone in the bar - not really alone, just without anybody else sitting with them at the table.
“People are supposed to have a favorite sin now? I knew about favorite book or color, but favorite sin?”
It’s not really the sort of subject he’s keen to discuss in a casual way with a co-worker. Maybe he could stick to the psychological aspect of the issue. Maybe he could ask her what hers is and tries to analyze her answer. Maybe...
“Just answer me.” Her voice is soft, quiet and firm - she won’t yield, won’t let him worm his way out of the question.
“Lust,” he teases because he drank a bit too much beer and because she’s staring at him across the table. It’s usually not the kind of thoughts he would have, maybe because it just never occurred to him, maybe because sometimes, she scares him a little bit. But tonight? She’s right in front of him, red, red lips curled into a smile and her shirt showing a bit more skin than it should. And honestly, in this situation, the “scare” factor? Totally a turn-on.
“Because you’re a Freudian kind of psychologist? Eros, Thanatos and all that stuff?”
“Eros doesn’t necessarily equal sex. It merely is the life drive.”
“I know. Then why?”
It suddenly comes back to him. The body they’re currently working on at the Jeffersonian. It’s been found near a church, which explains the turn their conversation has taken and, by the way, makes it even more wrong. Of course, ‘wrong’ is a moral term that shouldn’t find its way into a psychological assessment - although he wonders who’s assessing who, right now.
She licks her lips; it’s basic and not subtle at all, and she knows it as well as he does. It works nonetheless: he swallows hard, actually hearing the sound of his throat working. He’s supposed to be good at this, good at reading the body language and evaluate it, but he finds himself caught in it, floored by the odd interest she’s showing for him.
“Because I’m a twenty-something male, doctor Saroyan,” he answers as softly and quietly as she asked the question. “Do you think this is the reason why this man got killed?”
“Sin?”
“Lust.”
“The facts point to that conclusion.”
“What’s your favorite sin, doctor Saroyan?” he asks.
She pats his wrist. The gesture is a bit patronizing, but he’s focusing too hard on the warmth of her skin, on the fact that she’s playing with him and that he doesn’t mind to actually care.
“Sloth. There were evidences all over the body.”
* *
May 10, 2009
End note: I’m sorry! I tried to write a real PWP. I tried to write something a bit more meaningful. No such luck *sigh*
Author: clair-de-lune
Fandom: Bones
Characters: Cam, Sweets
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: ~ 465
Disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowing them for a while.
Prompt by tokenblkgirl: Cam/Sweets, sin
Summary: “What’s your favorite sin, Sweets?”
Author’s Note: Posted in response to this fic meme. No beta because I’m dumb bold like that, so feel free to point out any mistakes.
“What’s your favorite sin, Sweets?”
He chokes a bit on his beer when Doctor Saroyan asks the question, not quite sure how they got into this kind of discussion. They’re alone in the bar - not really alone, just without anybody else sitting with them at the table.
“People are supposed to have a favorite sin now? I knew about favorite book or color, but favorite sin?”
It’s not really the sort of subject he’s keen to discuss in a casual way with a co-worker. Maybe he could stick to the psychological aspect of the issue. Maybe he could ask her what hers is and tries to analyze her answer. Maybe...
“Just answer me.” Her voice is soft, quiet and firm - she won’t yield, won’t let him worm his way out of the question.
“Lust,” he teases because he drank a bit too much beer and because she’s staring at him across the table. It’s usually not the kind of thoughts he would have, maybe because it just never occurred to him, maybe because sometimes, she scares him a little bit. But tonight? She’s right in front of him, red, red lips curled into a smile and her shirt showing a bit more skin than it should. And honestly, in this situation, the “scare” factor? Totally a turn-on.
“Because you’re a Freudian kind of psychologist? Eros, Thanatos and all that stuff?”
“Eros doesn’t necessarily equal sex. It merely is the life drive.”
“I know. Then why?”
It suddenly comes back to him. The body they’re currently working on at the Jeffersonian. It’s been found near a church, which explains the turn their conversation has taken and, by the way, makes it even more wrong. Of course, ‘wrong’ is a moral term that shouldn’t find its way into a psychological assessment - although he wonders who’s assessing who, right now.
She licks her lips; it’s basic and not subtle at all, and she knows it as well as he does. It works nonetheless: he swallows hard, actually hearing the sound of his throat working. He’s supposed to be good at this, good at reading the body language and evaluate it, but he finds himself caught in it, floored by the odd interest she’s showing for him.
“Because I’m a twenty-something male, doctor Saroyan,” he answers as softly and quietly as she asked the question. “Do you think this is the reason why this man got killed?”
“Sin?”
“Lust.”
“The facts point to that conclusion.”
“What’s your favorite sin, doctor Saroyan?” he asks.
She pats his wrist. The gesture is a bit patronizing, but he’s focusing too hard on the warmth of her skin, on the fact that she’s playing with him and that he doesn’t mind to actually care.
“Sloth. There were evidences all over the body.”
* *
May 10, 2009
End note: I’m sorry! I tried to write a real PWP. I tried to write something a bit more meaningful. No such luck *sigh*