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At the sight of her, breathing; eyes sparkling; nipples pert and awakened, and with the adrenaline still coursing through his body, Booth is instantly hard but - struggling for purchase in his aroused mind is the thought that there is a killer to catch tonight so he objects weakly, his voice half an octave higher than normal, "Bones, we've gotta get him."

She grips him unabashedly; tightly through his dress pants, "Booth, your body has just sustained a substantial rush of adrenaline… your amygdala is on high alert… your pupils are dilated… your heart was positively tachycardic back there – I could see it pulsing beneath your collar, and your skin," she shucks his jacket off onto the bathroom floor and rolls up the sleeve of his dress shirt, "your skin is highly sensitive… look… horripilation…" at his confused look she smiles seductively beneath her lashes, running a tickling finger across his forearm, "…Goosebumps, Booth… it's a vestigial, physiological reaction to fear and… extreme sexual arousal."

He groans; growing impossibly harder… she gets him every time with her squint talk… it like his kryptonite.

She pushes him backwards so he stumbles over his jacket into their bedroom and lands unceremoniously amidst the pillows of their bed. Brennan shakes the towel from her head with a sultry smile and he finally notices the crop of un-Brennan-like vibrant fire truck red, "Booth, with your heightened state, I doubt you'll last a minute… and I believe you could be forgiven on all accounts."

Brennan swiftly divests him of his trousers and makes quick work of unbuttoning his dress shirt… halfway through, she grunts impatiently, ripping apart the remaining buttons, eyes glinting as she edges easily atop him, "You see, there's very little difference between the biological responses of fear and sexual arousal but there is one sure way to eliminate the symptoms regardless of the cause."

Booth's smart mouthed reply instantly evaporates and his eyes roll back as she, without warning, impales herself over him - filling herself to the full.

Breathing through the always-emotional response to their coupling, Brennan sighs before rocking, grinding sensuously above him… each thrust bringing her taut, bouncing breasts closer to his wet, wanting mouth.

On a particularly deep stroke of luck, Booth captures her left nipple with his lips, suckling, nibbling, blowing hotly whilst his hand works with dexterous ease – bringing the right to a taut, aroused peak before his mouth latches on to it - soothing the tight mound with the warmth of his circling tongue.

With innate impulse, Brennan's pace kicks up a gear… plunging hungrily over him with long pulls, shucking and sheathing the full length of his shaft from head to balls; her orgasm builds and peaks like the repeated strike of a match over flint until a roaring fire of pleasure burns swiftly through her body.

Clutching her butt, white-knuckled, Booth drives with abandon beneath her… once, twice and on the third thrust he fills her deep with his seed; pulsing, grunting, writhing from a climax more intense than he'd felt in a long time.

Collapsing against his throbbing throat, Brennan smiles as she tries to catch her breath, "Three minutes... three minutes and 58 seconds… I told you that you wouldn't last long."

Booth feigns offence, "You were keeping count? Come on Bones, that's just nasty!"

She smiled a satisfied smile, "That was better than my initial postulation of one minute… you should be proud, Booth."

He shrugs and smacks her swiftly on the butt, "Yeah, yeah, come on woman, we've got a killer to catch."

Just then, Booth's phone trills with a message from Caroline informing him that she'd procured a warrant for Erik's DNA.

All business after a mind-blowing round of sex… Booth dresses in jeans and a vintage T-shirt, breathing deeply, grateful for his all-body calm…

…

Stepping up to his daughter's night shadowed front yard, Max Brennan's neck bristled with awareness… his sixth sense was never wrong and, right now, it was screaming for attention.

Fingering the short, shiv-like copper pipe resting in his pocket, Max takes a deep breath and walks fearlessly across the lawn.

He sees shadowed movement in the fragrant sumac – the deciduous shrub that underlines the windows of the Booth/Brennan house.

Max strides up to the spritely shadow, fisting the hair atop of the intruder's scalp and wrenching the head back to stare threateningly into his eyes; Max's copper blade piercing the tender flesh of Erik's throat, "What are you doing staring through the windows of my daughter's house, huh?"

Erik stammers, cringing as he feels the warm trickle of blood tickling down his throat - slipping through the V of the collar of his shirt.

Max growls, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't slice your sorry ass open and burn your filthy excuse of an existence to the ground."

This is a first for Erik; no-one has ever stood up to him before, and no-one has ever threatened him before and he really, really doesn't like it. Realising that he is definitely, well and truly out-ranked, he flounders, stuttering… "She's, she's…" as the sharpened pipe slices deeper into his throat, a warm, uric stench bleeds from the front of Erik's pants and he back pedals frantically… "She's not worth it! She's not worth it, let me go! Please, let me go!"

Max smiles darkly, "Did you just… did you just piss yourself?" he tightens his grip on Erik's head, plunging and grinding his face into the wet, earthy grass of the lawn… "You better run fast son, before I change my mind... and, trust me, son, from one cold-blooded killer to the next, you don't want me to change my mind." With another thrust of his face into the dank, thick grass, Erik stumbles and claws desperately. Managing to twist free, Erik sprints gutlessly to his vehicle and speeds away…

Reaching the front steps, Max Brennan dusts himself off proudly. His ears pricking with the distinct, pleasured moans of a couple in love… he pauses as the sobbed, "Oh, oh, OH, Booth!" cuts through the dark night air… then, smiling to himself and shaking his head, he turns on his heel leaving discretely… a silent, brave crime-fighting phantom of the night…

…

After an action filled night and an easy, somewhat, panicked confession from the true murderer, Booth and Brennan lay snuggled together, stripped of clothing in the quiet early morning, amidst the comforting warmth of their bed, "So," he smiles lazily, "What was with the loud, crazy opera music before? I gotta say, it scared the absolute shit outa me Bones."

Her eyebrows quirk amusedly, "Well… I was looking for a birthday present for Angela in the mall when I came across The Phantom of the Opera compact disc… the case had a picture of a mask similar to the ones on the faces of the decedents' in our Streetwalker Strangler case. It piqued my interest."

She pauses, "I read the sleeve. I'm not quite certain why I felt compelled to purchase it but, erhaps it was the coincidental fact that the author's surname is Leroux."

Booth tries to catch up, "Huh?"

"The Phantom of the Opera was written by Gaston Leroux… and the protagonist in his story wore a mask to cover scaring on his face… I found the similarities between our case and the Phantom story intriguing. If I were to believe that my gastrointestinal tract held any influence over my awareness as you maintain yours does… I would say that, sitting in the shower, piecing it all together, I knew Erik was the killer even before you told me of Sweets' conclusion."

He nudges her affectionately, "Hey, I'm rubbin' off on ya Bones!"

She smiles, rolling her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, don't get used to it... I am an empirical scientist through and through."

They lay in contemplative silence for one or two minutes both aware of the other's naked state before Booth laughs deeply, "All things said and done, I think you'll have to hand it to Angela this time, Bones."

Her eyebrow lifts in silent inquiry, "What? Why?"

He grins salaciously before rolling her beneath him, "C'mon, baby, you've gotta admit after tonight… red-heads may just have a leeedle bit more fun!" she giggles and he adds, voice filled with impish tease as he presses firmy into her, thrusting anew "MMmmm, yeah, baby… my red-headed minx… I'll make it my personal responsibility and duty to make certain you have more fun…"

...

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