Bones fanfiction - The Bet, Ch 2
It was the only kind of bet he made anymore. And the stakes were impossibly high. Rated M for later chapters. Romance/Angst/Humor. Definitely BB, some Hodgela, and Zach!
Chapter 1 can be found at hpaich.livejournal.com/14992.html
The first fifteen chapters are listed at fanfiction.net, if you want to read more quickly. I hope you enjoy!
THE BET
The crowd seemed a little young, the music a little old. Booth leaned against the bar, holding a stool for Bones while she danced with Angela. The DJ was mixing new hits with older selections, with an emphasis on Motown and Stax artists. Martha Reeves & the Vandelas had just given way to Isaac Hayes, and the girls were going crazy for the retro mix. He had to laugh at the two of them - at Bones, especially. Angela whirling madly to Sam and Dave was something he would have expected, but Bones - he chuckled again. She’d only had one drink. But her exhaustion was finishing the job, and she was writhing and twisting to the music in a way that kept seizing his attention. The dramatic flashing lights and smoke machines added an almost mythical quality to her movements - she seemed to be moving quickly and in slow motion, all at the same time. There should be a law against hips like that. He stopped himself instantly, castigating himself for ogling his partner. Very classy, Seeley. He drained his third scotch, after making sure he still had enough money for the Metro. No driving tonight, old boy. So much for his hopes for an early night - apparently, they were going to close the bar. Thank God tomorrow’s Saturday.
“So, which are you?”
Booth blinked, dragged his focus off of the dance floor. “Which what am I?”
“Are you an ass man or a breast man?” Hodgins drained his fourth cocktail and passed the empty to Zach. “I’m definitely an ass man, and Zach…well, I can’t even tell you what he is, it’s too embarrassing.”
His innate investigative tendencies aroused by this snippet of information, Booth cocked an eyebrow at the two men. “Well, hell, you have to tell me now - you can’t just start something like that and leave it hanging…”
Zach stepped forward, emboldened by the beer Hodgins had been pouring down his throat all evening. “I’m a brain man.”
“Huh? You’re a what?” Booth blinked, certain he hadn’t heard him correctly. Behind him, Hodgins sniggered quietly into his fifth drink.
“A brain man.” He could see that Booth didn’t understand, and hastened to explain. “I want to be with a woman who is very intelligent, so I won’t have to keep explaining myself.”
Hodgins gave up the fight and started laughing like a hyena, spilling a good portion of his drink on the floor. After a brief internal battle, Booth decided to take pity on Zach. “I think he meant what physical aspect of a woman gets you the most interested.”
“Oh.” Zach frowned for a moment as he concentrated. “Then I guess I’m a hair man. I find that I act very irrationally when I’m out on a date and the woman has long, shiny hair.”
“What color?” pressed Booth, intrigued by the information Zach was supplying. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.
“It doesn’t matter. Any color is fine, as long as it’s shiny and reaches to the middle of her back. I’m much more open to suggestion when the woman in question fulfills or exceeds those parameters.”
“Yeah, beautiful hair is definitely a plus in a woman.” Booth decided that Zach wasn’t a total lost cause, and stared pointedly at Hodgins until the laughter ceased. “You should stick with that.”
“You didn’t answer the question, Booth.” Eagerly awaiting Booth’s response, Hodgins shifted on the balls of his feet.
Feigning forgetfulness, he switched his attention to Hodgins. “About what?”
Zach leaned forward, answering for his friend. “What you like in a woman. You never told us.”
“And I don’t plan on telling you. There are some things that are on a need-to-know basis only.” Pleased, he slowly sipped his scotch and waited for the volcano to blow. Hodgins sober was fun to wind up; Hodgins drunk was even better.
Hodgins bulled between Zach and Booth, unable to resist the lure of classified information. “Oh, c’mon, man, that’s not fair! We told you what type we like, now you have to tell us! That’s how this works! So, ass man or breast man?”
Booth simply smiled and leaned back against the bar, swirling his scotch.
“I’ll find out, you know. I’m all about revealing the truth!” Disgusted, Hodgins tossed back the remainder of his drink and plowed through the crowd, heading toward the girls. Quite content to not know the truth - and definitely smart enough to know not to ask - Zach happily watched the action around him and finished yet another beer.
Booth smirked at Hodgins’ retreating back. Go ahead and try, see what you find out. Hodgins wouldn’t get anything he didn’t want to give him. Remembering his previous interest in the dance floor - and its occupants - Booth took the opportunity to spot the girls, his eyes seeking out and quickly finding his partner. She was still dancing, but the strain of the long day was beginning to tell. Even tired, though, she was by far the most beautiful woman in the room. I’m a Bones man. He frowned. Where had that come from? Okay - better slow down on the drinking. Judging from his constant - and very unprofessional - surveillance of Bones, he’d definitely had more than enough. He shook himself mentally as she made her way back to the bar, followed by Angela and Hodgins. Behave yourself.
“Phew, that was fun! See, sweetie, I knew you’d have fun if you came out with us.” Angela slid gracefully onto her stool, rubbing her hands together excitedly. “Aren’t you glad you came?”
“I will admit that it was rather enjoyable, Ange, but I’m glad we’re taking a break for a bit. I’m really pretty tired.” A pleasant haze was drifting through Brennan’s mind, numbing everything, even the pain in her feet from the borrowed shoes. Her muscles were pleasantly loose and warm, and the mix of alcohol and fatigue was making her appreciate everything around her even more than normal - including her companions. An easy sigh escaped her, and she relaxed mindlessly, leaning carelessly backward.
Booth’s heart began to pound erratically; his pulse increasing rapidly. Without thinking, Brennan had leaned back against him, pressing her entire back - naked back, thank you - against him. The delicate scent of warm woman teased his nose, the fragrance vastly superior even to his beloved apple pie. He fought desperately to control his reaction. She was just tired; she didn’t realize what she was doing. What she was doing was killing him. “Bones?”
She yawned hugely, her head tipping back onto his shoulder with a tired plop. “Mmm. What, Booth? What’s the matter?” She leaned even more completely, knowing he wouldn’t let her fall. “You wanna dance? ‘We can - in a minute. I need a break first.” Her slender, pale hand slipped upward, laying a casual pat on his cheek. “You could buy me another drink while we wait…”
“No more for you, Bones. Tonight, one is enough. You’re half-asleep already.” His skin was vibrating where she’d caressed him. Actually vibrating, he could swear it. He was used to standing strong against the daily temptation of Temperance Brennan, but this was simply ridiculous. He puffed out a shallow breath of air and tried again. “You sure you wanna dance with me? It seems like Girls Night Out tonight.” As she’d danced earlier, he’d had to dip into his very shallow well of restraint several times as men constantly approached the two women. But their hopes for a little bump and grind had been crushed every time, as Angela and Bones kept waving them absently away. Which is good - I really don’t wanna have to hurt anyone tonight.
She frowned at him, more confused than displeased. “You don’t have to get a drink for me if you don’t want to, Booth. I’ll just buy a round. Who wants another drink?” Brennan fiddled her hands around behind her, fingers brushing low against him as she dug in the small purse looped diagonally over her shoulders.
He jolted like a teenager at the sensation, flushing darkly in reaction. As if by silent summons, his eyes met Angela’s. She stared at him, her eyes full of merriment, fully aware of his dilemma but quite unwilling to help him solve it. You’re on your own, Bucko. She might as well have said it aloud, he could see it so clearly in her face. Looking at the ceiling, he closed his eyes in distress at the sensation as the rest of the squint squad chimed in their drink requests. Before he could stop her, she rattled off her order to the bartender, including another cocktail for herself. That snapped him out of his funk quickly enough. No, this is no good. She’s too tired. She starts having more drinks, she’s gonna slide right off that stool. “Hey, Bones.” He grabbed her shoulder, distracting her. “How ‘bout that dance?”
“Now? But I just ordered more drinks…I - ” But Booth was already drawing her away from the bar and into the crowd, and she was just too tired to care. “Alright.” She had wanted to dance with him, anyway. She just hadn’t wanted to seem too eager. That wouldn’t do at all.
Swinging her in a circle as The Supremes sang about hurrying love, Booth smoothly moved her around the dance floor, taking care not to overtax her physically. She really is beat - she wasn’t kidding. She still seemed to be enjoying herself, however, and they stayed on the floor through several old hits. Suddenly, the DJ announced a slow dance set, and before Booth could even blink, Bones had gravitated toward him, locking her wrists behind his neck. Unfortunately, that meant that his hands had only one place to go - her back. Which was, to his great consternation, still naked. Reluctantly he slid his arms around her, already wishing he was somewhere else. Anywhere but here, looking at her. Her eyes shone like dual stars in a winter sky; not static, but constantly changing, shining, beckoning. He knew her half-lidded stare was due to her lack of sleep, but his libido kept conjuring her as a temptress trying her best to break him.
Her system was powering down rapidly. Added to that was the vague but increasing throb from her feet. Booth’s support was a welcome reinforcement, and she clutched him gratefully. As they swayed, she became aware of a pulsing ache in her midsection; not really a pain. Not really unpleasant at all. “I forget the name of this song.”
“It’s Otis Redding. ‘These Arms of Mine’.” Yeah, worst possible song they could have played right now.
“Oh yes, that’s right.” Her head, tipped slightly back, lolled gently from side to side as they swayed. “I love this song.”
With her arms over his shoulders, they were face to face, and the heels put her almost at a height with him. Her face was open, unguarded; her eyes full of mystery. She cocked her head in consideration, as if measuring him for a very intimate experiment. Booth looked searchingly at her. “What is this, Bones?”
Instead of answering him, she shifted, and her head drifted down to his shoulder. With a small sigh she settled snugly against him, her hands brushing slowly down, nipping underneath his arms and claiming his waist. Instinctively, his arms tightened, and she burrowed closer, turning her face toward him, pressing her cheek into his shirt. “I was right.”
At her soft words, her warm breath trickled along his skin, causing an immediate, unconscious reaction throughout his entire body. His arms pulled her even closer; his fingers pressed firmly against her skin. Staring at the far wall, he tried desperately to remember that this was his partner, that there was a line he couldn’t cross. “About what?”
“We fit.” A tilt of her head brought her lips softly in contact with his neck. “I thought we would.” She took another step, somehow bringing their bodies even tighter against one another.
“Bones…” The feel of her lips rubbing against his neck as she spoke was tearing at his control. He had to stop this, and stop it quickly. But his body had other plans. Whatever wise thing he’d planned to say, whatever responsible words had been about to drop from his mouth crumbled into dust as he felt her hands duck under the back of his shirt. The soft pads of her fingers were a gentle, subtle torture, rubbing, stroking in tiny circles against his skin, just above his pants. Spirals of heat spread, radiating outward from the spot where skin met skin and heat met heat. A soft tickle against his cheek tempted him, and as he turned his head, the sweet scent rising from her hair dazzled him. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he swallowed rapidly, trying hard to regain some willpower. “We’ve danced before, Bones.”
“Mmm, not like this. This is…” She exhaled, her breath puffing against his neck as she searched for the right word. “…better.” Rubbing her lips along his neck, she filled her lungs with his masculine scent. “I can smell you this way.”
He felt his blood rushing south at her blunt, unintentionally erotic words, and tried to think of something, anything to distract himself. A faint sweat sprang up on his brow. This was just not fair. Not fair at all. Here she was, soft, beautiful, pliant in his arms - everything he’d ever wanted. And nothing he could ever have. Struggling valiantly against his instinctive urge to take, he backed up, hoping to give himself some room. His effort was foiled. She’d been allowing him to lead - when he took several tense steps backward, she simply moved fluidly with him, clinging tighter at the unexpected change in direction. His failed attempt to escape had only landed him in more trouble - they were now swaying at the edge of the crush of people, away from the lights at the center of the dance floor. Bathed in darkness, they were hidden from view - just one of a sea of couples moving, embracing. Unseen.
He could do anything he wanted.
When the thought rippled through his mind, he froze, standing stock-still as the crowd eddied around them. The abrupt lack of motion did not trigger any higher awareness in her. She merely leaned against him, breathing slowly, deeply. Her fingers ceased circling and veered lower on his waist, edging under his jeans. Panic mushroomed in him as he went suddenly, viciously rock-hard from head to toe. Some things were just not meant to be endured, and this was one of them. “Temperance…Temperance, you have to stop.” The alarm in his voice shamed him, but he simply couldn’t contain it. Fear had him in a stranglehold - fear that he would do something unforgivable. That he would ruin what they had.
“Hmmm? Stop what?” never before had she been so at ease, so relaxed. With all the muscle and sinew, his body should have been hard, uncomfortable. Strangely, it was not - their bodies melded together perfectly, her lithe softness the perfect match for his raw strength. My own Seeley bed… pleased with her witticism, she smiled and dipped her fingers just a bit lower, humming her satisfaction as his fingers dug even deeper into her.
ChristJesus. The bar. If he could just get her over to the bar, he knew he could get Angela to take her home. Before he jumped her like a sex-starved lunatic. Bones-starved lunatic, more like. Hoping to send a distress signal to Angela and Hodgins - not that they’d listen, the traitors, but he had to try - he glanced over at the bar. The seats they’d occupied were empty. Trying to avoid panicking even further, he swept his gaze around the room, sure that they’d simply moved to a table, because, God, they weren’t gone. They couldn’t be gone.
Oh, shit. They were gone. One single soft, sweet sigh floated up past his ears, sounding for all the world like a death knell to his overtaxed system. One thought kept spinning wildly in his head until it crowded out everything else.
What the hell am I going to do now?
Chapter 1 can be found at hpaich.livejournal.com/14992.html
The first fifteen chapters are listed at fanfiction.net, if you want to read more quickly. I hope you enjoy!
THE BET
The crowd seemed a little young, the music a little old. Booth leaned against the bar, holding a stool for Bones while she danced with Angela. The DJ was mixing new hits with older selections, with an emphasis on Motown and Stax artists. Martha Reeves & the Vandelas had just given way to Isaac Hayes, and the girls were going crazy for the retro mix. He had to laugh at the two of them - at Bones, especially. Angela whirling madly to Sam and Dave was something he would have expected, but Bones - he chuckled again. She’d only had one drink. But her exhaustion was finishing the job, and she was writhing and twisting to the music in a way that kept seizing his attention. The dramatic flashing lights and smoke machines added an almost mythical quality to her movements - she seemed to be moving quickly and in slow motion, all at the same time. There should be a law against hips like that. He stopped himself instantly, castigating himself for ogling his partner. Very classy, Seeley. He drained his third scotch, after making sure he still had enough money for the Metro. No driving tonight, old boy. So much for his hopes for an early night - apparently, they were going to close the bar. Thank God tomorrow’s Saturday.
“So, which are you?”
Booth blinked, dragged his focus off of the dance floor. “Which what am I?”
“Are you an ass man or a breast man?” Hodgins drained his fourth cocktail and passed the empty to Zach. “I’m definitely an ass man, and Zach…well, I can’t even tell you what he is, it’s too embarrassing.”
His innate investigative tendencies aroused by this snippet of information, Booth cocked an eyebrow at the two men. “Well, hell, you have to tell me now - you can’t just start something like that and leave it hanging…”
Zach stepped forward, emboldened by the beer Hodgins had been pouring down his throat all evening. “I’m a brain man.”
“Huh? You’re a what?” Booth blinked, certain he hadn’t heard him correctly. Behind him, Hodgins sniggered quietly into his fifth drink.
“A brain man.” He could see that Booth didn’t understand, and hastened to explain. “I want to be with a woman who is very intelligent, so I won’t have to keep explaining myself.”
Hodgins gave up the fight and started laughing like a hyena, spilling a good portion of his drink on the floor. After a brief internal battle, Booth decided to take pity on Zach. “I think he meant what physical aspect of a woman gets you the most interested.”
“Oh.” Zach frowned for a moment as he concentrated. “Then I guess I’m a hair man. I find that I act very irrationally when I’m out on a date and the woman has long, shiny hair.”
“What color?” pressed Booth, intrigued by the information Zach was supplying. Maybe there’s hope for him yet.
“It doesn’t matter. Any color is fine, as long as it’s shiny and reaches to the middle of her back. I’m much more open to suggestion when the woman in question fulfills or exceeds those parameters.”
“Yeah, beautiful hair is definitely a plus in a woman.” Booth decided that Zach wasn’t a total lost cause, and stared pointedly at Hodgins until the laughter ceased. “You should stick with that.”
“You didn’t answer the question, Booth.” Eagerly awaiting Booth’s response, Hodgins shifted on the balls of his feet.
Feigning forgetfulness, he switched his attention to Hodgins. “About what?”
Zach leaned forward, answering for his friend. “What you like in a woman. You never told us.”
“And I don’t plan on telling you. There are some things that are on a need-to-know basis only.” Pleased, he slowly sipped his scotch and waited for the volcano to blow. Hodgins sober was fun to wind up; Hodgins drunk was even better.
Hodgins bulled between Zach and Booth, unable to resist the lure of classified information. “Oh, c’mon, man, that’s not fair! We told you what type we like, now you have to tell us! That’s how this works! So, ass man or breast man?”
Booth simply smiled and leaned back against the bar, swirling his scotch.
“I’ll find out, you know. I’m all about revealing the truth!” Disgusted, Hodgins tossed back the remainder of his drink and plowed through the crowd, heading toward the girls. Quite content to not know the truth - and definitely smart enough to know not to ask - Zach happily watched the action around him and finished yet another beer.
Booth smirked at Hodgins’ retreating back. Go ahead and try, see what you find out. Hodgins wouldn’t get anything he didn’t want to give him. Remembering his previous interest in the dance floor - and its occupants - Booth took the opportunity to spot the girls, his eyes seeking out and quickly finding his partner. She was still dancing, but the strain of the long day was beginning to tell. Even tired, though, she was by far the most beautiful woman in the room. I’m a Bones man. He frowned. Where had that come from? Okay - better slow down on the drinking. Judging from his constant - and very unprofessional - surveillance of Bones, he’d definitely had more than enough. He shook himself mentally as she made her way back to the bar, followed by Angela and Hodgins. Behave yourself.
“Phew, that was fun! See, sweetie, I knew you’d have fun if you came out with us.” Angela slid gracefully onto her stool, rubbing her hands together excitedly. “Aren’t you glad you came?”
“I will admit that it was rather enjoyable, Ange, but I’m glad we’re taking a break for a bit. I’m really pretty tired.” A pleasant haze was drifting through Brennan’s mind, numbing everything, even the pain in her feet from the borrowed shoes. Her muscles were pleasantly loose and warm, and the mix of alcohol and fatigue was making her appreciate everything around her even more than normal - including her companions. An easy sigh escaped her, and she relaxed mindlessly, leaning carelessly backward.
Booth’s heart began to pound erratically; his pulse increasing rapidly. Without thinking, Brennan had leaned back against him, pressing her entire back - naked back, thank you - against him. The delicate scent of warm woman teased his nose, the fragrance vastly superior even to his beloved apple pie. He fought desperately to control his reaction. She was just tired; she didn’t realize what she was doing. What she was doing was killing him. “Bones?”
She yawned hugely, her head tipping back onto his shoulder with a tired plop. “Mmm. What, Booth? What’s the matter?” She leaned even more completely, knowing he wouldn’t let her fall. “You wanna dance? ‘We can - in a minute. I need a break first.” Her slender, pale hand slipped upward, laying a casual pat on his cheek. “You could buy me another drink while we wait…”
“No more for you, Bones. Tonight, one is enough. You’re half-asleep already.” His skin was vibrating where she’d caressed him. Actually vibrating, he could swear it. He was used to standing strong against the daily temptation of Temperance Brennan, but this was simply ridiculous. He puffed out a shallow breath of air and tried again. “You sure you wanna dance with me? It seems like Girls Night Out tonight.” As she’d danced earlier, he’d had to dip into his very shallow well of restraint several times as men constantly approached the two women. But their hopes for a little bump and grind had been crushed every time, as Angela and Bones kept waving them absently away. Which is good - I really don’t wanna have to hurt anyone tonight.
She frowned at him, more confused than displeased. “You don’t have to get a drink for me if you don’t want to, Booth. I’ll just buy a round. Who wants another drink?” Brennan fiddled her hands around behind her, fingers brushing low against him as she dug in the small purse looped diagonally over her shoulders.
He jolted like a teenager at the sensation, flushing darkly in reaction. As if by silent summons, his eyes met Angela’s. She stared at him, her eyes full of merriment, fully aware of his dilemma but quite unwilling to help him solve it. You’re on your own, Bucko. She might as well have said it aloud, he could see it so clearly in her face. Looking at the ceiling, he closed his eyes in distress at the sensation as the rest of the squint squad chimed in their drink requests. Before he could stop her, she rattled off her order to the bartender, including another cocktail for herself. That snapped him out of his funk quickly enough. No, this is no good. She’s too tired. She starts having more drinks, she’s gonna slide right off that stool. “Hey, Bones.” He grabbed her shoulder, distracting her. “How ‘bout that dance?”
“Now? But I just ordered more drinks…I - ” But Booth was already drawing her away from the bar and into the crowd, and she was just too tired to care. “Alright.” She had wanted to dance with him, anyway. She just hadn’t wanted to seem too eager. That wouldn’t do at all.
Swinging her in a circle as The Supremes sang about hurrying love, Booth smoothly moved her around the dance floor, taking care not to overtax her physically. She really is beat - she wasn’t kidding. She still seemed to be enjoying herself, however, and they stayed on the floor through several old hits. Suddenly, the DJ announced a slow dance set, and before Booth could even blink, Bones had gravitated toward him, locking her wrists behind his neck. Unfortunately, that meant that his hands had only one place to go - her back. Which was, to his great consternation, still naked. Reluctantly he slid his arms around her, already wishing he was somewhere else. Anywhere but here, looking at her. Her eyes shone like dual stars in a winter sky; not static, but constantly changing, shining, beckoning. He knew her half-lidded stare was due to her lack of sleep, but his libido kept conjuring her as a temptress trying her best to break him.
Her system was powering down rapidly. Added to that was the vague but increasing throb from her feet. Booth’s support was a welcome reinforcement, and she clutched him gratefully. As they swayed, she became aware of a pulsing ache in her midsection; not really a pain. Not really unpleasant at all. “I forget the name of this song.”
“It’s Otis Redding. ‘These Arms of Mine’.” Yeah, worst possible song they could have played right now.
“Oh yes, that’s right.” Her head, tipped slightly back, lolled gently from side to side as they swayed. “I love this song.”
With her arms over his shoulders, they were face to face, and the heels put her almost at a height with him. Her face was open, unguarded; her eyes full of mystery. She cocked her head in consideration, as if measuring him for a very intimate experiment. Booth looked searchingly at her. “What is this, Bones?”
Instead of answering him, she shifted, and her head drifted down to his shoulder. With a small sigh she settled snugly against him, her hands brushing slowly down, nipping underneath his arms and claiming his waist. Instinctively, his arms tightened, and she burrowed closer, turning her face toward him, pressing her cheek into his shirt. “I was right.”
At her soft words, her warm breath trickled along his skin, causing an immediate, unconscious reaction throughout his entire body. His arms pulled her even closer; his fingers pressed firmly against her skin. Staring at the far wall, he tried desperately to remember that this was his partner, that there was a line he couldn’t cross. “About what?”
“We fit.” A tilt of her head brought her lips softly in contact with his neck. “I thought we would.” She took another step, somehow bringing their bodies even tighter against one another.
“Bones…” The feel of her lips rubbing against his neck as she spoke was tearing at his control. He had to stop this, and stop it quickly. But his body had other plans. Whatever wise thing he’d planned to say, whatever responsible words had been about to drop from his mouth crumbled into dust as he felt her hands duck under the back of his shirt. The soft pads of her fingers were a gentle, subtle torture, rubbing, stroking in tiny circles against his skin, just above his pants. Spirals of heat spread, radiating outward from the spot where skin met skin and heat met heat. A soft tickle against his cheek tempted him, and as he turned his head, the sweet scent rising from her hair dazzled him. Saliva pooled in his mouth and he swallowed rapidly, trying hard to regain some willpower. “We’ve danced before, Bones.”
“Mmm, not like this. This is…” She exhaled, her breath puffing against his neck as she searched for the right word. “…better.” Rubbing her lips along his neck, she filled her lungs with his masculine scent. “I can smell you this way.”
He felt his blood rushing south at her blunt, unintentionally erotic words, and tried to think of something, anything to distract himself. A faint sweat sprang up on his brow. This was just not fair. Not fair at all. Here she was, soft, beautiful, pliant in his arms - everything he’d ever wanted. And nothing he could ever have. Struggling valiantly against his instinctive urge to take, he backed up, hoping to give himself some room. His effort was foiled. She’d been allowing him to lead - when he took several tense steps backward, she simply moved fluidly with him, clinging tighter at the unexpected change in direction. His failed attempt to escape had only landed him in more trouble - they were now swaying at the edge of the crush of people, away from the lights at the center of the dance floor. Bathed in darkness, they were hidden from view - just one of a sea of couples moving, embracing. Unseen.
He could do anything he wanted.
When the thought rippled through his mind, he froze, standing stock-still as the crowd eddied around them. The abrupt lack of motion did not trigger any higher awareness in her. She merely leaned against him, breathing slowly, deeply. Her fingers ceased circling and veered lower on his waist, edging under his jeans. Panic mushroomed in him as he went suddenly, viciously rock-hard from head to toe. Some things were just not meant to be endured, and this was one of them. “Temperance…Temperance, you have to stop.” The alarm in his voice shamed him, but he simply couldn’t contain it. Fear had him in a stranglehold - fear that he would do something unforgivable. That he would ruin what they had.
“Hmmm? Stop what?” never before had she been so at ease, so relaxed. With all the muscle and sinew, his body should have been hard, uncomfortable. Strangely, it was not - their bodies melded together perfectly, her lithe softness the perfect match for his raw strength. My own Seeley bed… pleased with her witticism, she smiled and dipped her fingers just a bit lower, humming her satisfaction as his fingers dug even deeper into her.
ChristJesus. The bar. If he could just get her over to the bar, he knew he could get Angela to take her home. Before he jumped her like a sex-starved lunatic. Bones-starved lunatic, more like. Hoping to send a distress signal to Angela and Hodgins - not that they’d listen, the traitors, but he had to try - he glanced over at the bar. The seats they’d occupied were empty. Trying to avoid panicking even further, he swept his gaze around the room, sure that they’d simply moved to a table, because, God, they weren’t gone. They couldn’t be gone.
Oh, shit. They were gone. One single soft, sweet sigh floated up past his ears, sounding for all the world like a death knell to his overtaxed system. One thought kept spinning wildly in his head until it crowded out everything else.
What the hell am I going to do now?