From the Non-Existent Journal of Dr. Temperance Brennan

By: Lesera128

Rated: M

Disclaimer: stares:: ::blinks:: ::stares again:: Yeah. I still don't own anything…but, you knew that from the stares, right?

Summary: Brennan's secret life as a reporter for the Associated Press catches up to her & threatens her safety in a way she never anticipated. AU.

Author's Note: I know that a lot of this story seems, so far, to revolve around Booth and Brennan and sexy (at least, somewhat) situations—probably more than I'd originally anticipated. So, for those who don't enjoy that type of stuff too much ::blinks suspiciously:: —well, this will probably be the last of it for a while. But, the good news for those who do enjoy this type of stuff—well, this chapter is rated M for a very, very good reason. Those who are not of age or don't jive with the hot sexiness need go no further. Please exit stage left. And, for those who do—well, proceed at your own risk…but, like B&B, I do hope that you...enjoy. :)~

Chapter 6 – "The Laws of Physics"

Quote: "To what? Breaking the laws of physics?

-OPEN WORD DOCUMENT-

Given the choice between the two options—having to concentrate on the efforts that would culminate in Chrissy's behavior modifications, or, having to focus on avenging Hannah Burley's death by solving her murder… well, okay, I admit it. I took the lesser of two evils and decided to focus on my daughter.

It's not that I didn't want to solve Hannah's murder. After all, the more quickly that I could get the circumstances of her murder solved, the more quickly I would be able to get that entire period of my life finally squared away—neatly compartmentalized in the past where it belonged. Indeed, I was never one for dwelling on the past, and I just wanted what had already happened to be over and done with—there were too many important things in the future on which I needed to concentrate the full focus of my energies. Booth, Parker, Chrissy, and our new baby—that is, if I could ever get done what I needed to get done on that front.

But, for now, I did want to concentrate on Chrissy's behavior modifications. She hadn't taken well to the changes we instigated after having met with the principal of her Montessori school. It was, also, proving to be a bit of a trying time for me since, per Booth's theory, I had to modify my behavior since Chrissy seemed to have decided to model much of her own actions on what she observed from me. Overall, the changes we made had been subtle, and she'd been responding to them well, but for the punishment she received for trying to sneak out of school.

As an aside, I'm still scared out of my metaphorical mind as to what might've happened if she'd actually gotten away that morning when she tried to leave the pre-school. When Chrissy was finally asked what she wanted to do in the events that had culminated with her attempted Great Escape, she'd explained to Booth how she was 'bored, wanted to explore, learn, and be like Mommy'. I think he took a bit hard—or, at least, his ego did, given how her words basically confirmed her principal's opinion that our daughter had imprinted on me, as opposed to him, in looking for a model in how to pattern her behavior. I don't think, logically, that it shouldn't have surprised Booth, especially given the points he'd made himself about similarities in children of one gender patterning themselves after the co-responding parent. But, I still do think the truth of it bothered him a bit. However, wonderful man that he is, he shrugged it off and then helped me do what he needed to do to punish Chrissy.

That punishment hit her particularly hard once we dealt it out to impress upon her the severity of the situation—a loss of all of her stuffed animals for two weeks but for the stuffed tadpole that she'd had from Booth since she was an infant and slept with every night. We couldn't think of how else to hit her, in Booth's words, where it would proverbially hurt the most. However, since the stuffed animals also served as both her best friends and a captive audience with which she liked to 'play school', it seemed the most appropriate way to convey the necessary impetus to help her modify her behavior. At first, the temper tantrum she threw was significant. However, after spewing a number of quite impressive words from her ever-increasing vocabulary that conveyed her disagreement with our decision, and her displeasure was at the actual decision itself in all the negative invectives she spewed. But, eventually, our daughter quieted. Her tears lessened. Her little red face, swollen and tear streaked, eventually calmed as cried herself to sleep. Like it normally is, the first night was the worst. But, after several days, we did eventually begin to see some improvement in her behavior. As much as I loathed the idea of admitting that the psychologists might have some verisimilitude when it came to children's behavior, the subtle change in Chrissy's attitude seemed to offer some evidence in support of their theories.

Such was the state of our family as the beginning of the second week in November approached, and with it, both Booth's birthday and our wedding anniversary. And, so, for one night on Veteran's Day—in celebration of commemorating both events, I set aside the weariness of our personal parenting responsibilities and the pressing nature of our professional investigative duties regarding Hannah's murder—and concentrated on the needs of our relationship first.

And, wow—what a night that ended up being.

After a very enjoyable evening that had been spent at a wonderful restaurant, feeling very satiated as far as food and drink were concerned, but quite amorous, Brennan gave her husband a very familiar smile that clearly told him that she had only one thing on her mind.

"Bedroom," she had murmured into his ear as soon as they had arrived at their apartment. It was late, and all was quiet, and she couldn't help herself as she allowed his wonderful smell of mint and citrus to wash over her. "Now, Booth."

"Patience," he chuckled, leaning into her. "Give me just a few minutes to check the kids, and then I'm all yours, Bones."

"Better be," she murmured as he locked the door behind them. Dropping her purse on the entryway table, Booth did the same with his badge, keys, and cell phone. Watching him as he quickly secured his gun, when Booth turned and gave her a wink, Brennan felt a sudden flutter in the pit of her stomach. "Don't keep me waiting, Booth."

"Two minutes," he said with a nod as he raised his hand and extended two digits to illustrate his point. "Just give me two minutes just to make certain that everything's locked down, and I'll meet you in our bedroom."

With a small sigh, Brennan reluctantly agreed. "Fine. Two minutes. But, no more."

"Deal," he said with a playful grin on his lips.

Approximately 180 seconds later, good as his word, Booth sauntered into their bedroom, his bright brown eyes lapping up the sight of his beautiful wife as she stood in their bedroom, obviously and impatiently waiting for him.

Watching her for a minute, Booth couldn't help but grin as he shared a small detail of which he was already quite well aware. "You're drunk, Bones," Booth laughed as he watched her sway in front of their bed.

"Am not," came the quick reply. Booth narrowed his eyes at her, and then Brennan amended her earlier statement. "I'm just a little…tipsy."

"A little, huh?" he said as he watched her hips undulate as if there was some music to which she was listening, but that he couldn't hear. "Just a little?"

Looking over at him, she extended her hand and gestured at him with her index finger. "Just enough," she said with a nod. "Now, come here. Dance with me."

"Mmmmm, I dunno, Bones. You sure you aren't going to fall over if you start to move?" Booth chuckled.

"I'm not drunk," Brennan repeated, a bit of ire creeping into her voice. "Now, come here, Booth. I want to dance with the birthday boy."

Looking at her as if she were causing some great imposition on him, he reluctantly came over and said, "If it's my birthday, how come you get to boss me around?"

"Because," Brennan said, taking her hand and threading her fingers in between his. "Two reasons. First, you like it. Second, tonight's not just about celebrating your birthday remember? Technically, it's my anniversary, too, so I get to have some say in things."

As Booth pulled her taut against his body, and they started to sway together, he moved his lips to her ear and said quietly, "Don't you always?"

"No," Brennan mumbled. "You don't always let me spend money on you like you did tonight."

"The guy already had the bottle of bubbly popped. What was I supposed to do, send it back?" Booth asked.

Tilting her head away from his, Brennan chuckled. "I thought you might. Especially when you saw it was Dom Perignon."

"Hmmmm," Booth said as his hands fell to Brennan's hips. He then pulled away from her just enough so that she could see him smile as he told her, "Okay, I did consider it, but—"

"But?" Brennan laughed.

"But, it would've been a waste of good booze, and as that's an unforgivable sin, I did the horribly honorable thing by suffering through letting the guy in the penguin suit pour it for us," Booth said.

"And, the second bottle?" Brennan asked as she brought her hands up and wrapped them lightly around his neck. "What about that one?"

"I kinda figured we were in for the penny in for the pound by that point, Bones," Booth replied. "Plus, it was really good."

"I like it when you do that," Brennan said with a soft sigh.

"Do what?" he responded, continuing to move lightly, their two bodies pressed up against one another.

"Let me spend money on you," Brennan said. "I like being able to spend money on you—make you happy."

"You do make me happy," Booth told her honestly. "And, two years ago, you made me one of the happiest guys on the planet."

"It doesn't seem like it was two years ago," Brennan murmured, leaning into him. "It's gone by so fast, Booth."

"Yeah, time kinda does that, Bones," he said quietly.

"I love you," she said, letting her fingers run back and forth up from the base of his skull across the occipital bone of his cranium and up to his parietal bone. "I really love you."

"I know, Bones," Booth said. "And, I love you, too. I love you even more now that I'm a Capitals season ticket holder."

"You like them?" Brennan asked, pulling away slightly. "I know you've said in the past that it makes you feel like a 'kept man', but I like being able to spend my money on things that make you happy, Booth."

"If you'd gotten me box seats I would've grumbled… a bit," Booth told her seriously.

"I know," Brennan admitted. "That's why I got you a pair of seats sufficiently far enough away from the ice so as to not offend your masculine sensibilities, but still as to provide you with an excellent vantage point from which you can view the games."

"Well, they aren't quite Euchre seats, but you're right—I can sit in them, watch the games, and not feel too guilty since all I got you was—" Booth was cut off as Brennan suddenly moved her mouth to his lips.

The kiss was sweet...brief, but tantalizing in its promise of what was to come. When she pulled away after a few seconds, Brennan smiled at him as she said, "You taste like champagne."

"Mmmm, so do you," Booth murmured.

"Booth," Brennan replied, a light coming into her eyes as she realized something that her husband had been keeping from her.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"I'm not the only one who's slightly inebriated, am I?" Brennan chuckled lightly. "And, more over, this was all a part of your plan, wasn't it? That's why you didn't want to drive tonight? You insisted that we take a cab—"

"I'm not drunk," Booth insisted, biting back a grin at his wife's discovery. "And, I didn't do anything nefarious, Bones. I just wanted to keep our options open."

"Options?" Brennan replied. "Such as in the option of you getting drunk?"

"I'm not drunk," Booth repeated.

Brennan gave him a knowing look as she said, "I seem to have heard that one some where previously—"

Booth chuckled. "Okay, so maybe we're both a bit—"

"Tipsy, I believe was the appropriate word, was it not?" Brennan finished the sentence for him.

"Mmmm," Booth said. "Tipsy is good."

"Tipsy can be good," Brennan said. "Depending on what you do while you're inhibitions are lowered."

"Well," Booth said, stepping away just far enough so that he could give her an appreciative leer. "I'm thinking that something would include me stripping you of that little blue dress you're in and seeing what type of trouble we can get into—"

Brennan tilted her head and pushed her hair off to one side with one hand while she lifted the other. "The zipper is on the side. Help me."

Booth didn't have to be told twice as he came forward and quickly unzipped the hidden zipper that suddenly revealed a whisper of the dark blue satin and lace of Brennan's chemise. He didn't have long to appreciate the tantalizing glimpse before it was revealed in all its glory when Brennan took both of her hands, tugged the dress up over her head, and casually tossed it away from the pair. She stepped out of her matching satin pumps, kicked them aside, and then stalked towards Booth in her bare feet wearing the satin slip and matching lingerie underneath it.

"We have to be quiet," Brennan told him. "Remember, my dad couldn't take Chrissy," she reminded him.

"And, Parker," Booth murmured as he watched his wife walk towards him provocatively, the slight sway of her hips making his mouth go dry and another part of his anatomy get very hard. "We owe Becks, by the way—since she let me have Parker for the night to babysit the Tadpole."

"I'll send her a fruit basket in gratitude," Brennan said, as she came over and ran her hands palm down up from the waistline of Booth's suit trousers up along his chest, and hooked over his shoulders. With a gentle movement, she helped push the black suit jacket off of Booth's shoulders. It fell to the ground with a slight whoosh that neither Booth nor Brennan noticed or cared. "One of the really nice ones."

Smiling at him, her fingers came to rest at the top of each of his shoulders. She slid her fingers under the dark black suspenders that he wore with a lascivious grin. "I normally much prefer you in the suit and tie, but I have to admit, if you were going to forgo the tie as you did tonight, these make a nice substitute." Brennan punctuated her words with a sharp flick of her wrist as she let the suspenders snap at his shoulders.

Groaning at her touch, Booth complained lightly, "Bones—"

"Yes, Booth?" she grinned back at him.

"The hockey tickets were for my birthday, right?" he half-moaned as he inhaled the scent of her hair—the tingly scent of the fruity hairspray she had used in greater amounts than normal to style her hair for the special occasion tickled his nose.

She gave a slight nod as his hands came up along her sides in an up and down pattern. "Yes."

"Then, for my anniversary present, I only want one thing," Booth said, increasing the speed as he rubbed up and down her torso in a steady motion that made her start to blink from double vision.

"But, the dinner was—" she began to explain lamely.

"All I want for my anniversary," Booth repeated, his voice firm and seductive, "is for you… to come and sit in my lap."

Forcing her eyes open, Brennan blinked at him several times in a daze as she looked at the delicious sight of him—hair mussed from her earlier ministrations, standing in his darkest black suit trousers. The severity of his dark blue shirt—accurately described as a French blue color completely unrelated to the fact that the button down shirt came with French cuffs that he had long ago rolled up—was mitigated by the casualness of the three open buttons at his collar and the simple black suspenders. Finally, she nodded as she took his hand and let him lead her to their bed.

Positioning himself comfortably on the side of the bed, Booth let his legs dangle over the edge. He quickly kicked off his dress loafers and socks and then gestured for Brennan to come closer to him. "Come here, Bones."

As if drawn to him in a slight trance, Brennan let him position her between his open knees. The dark blue chemise she'd worn under the rather sheer but simple a-line dress was a pretty garment in and of itself. Embroidered with an overlay of black thread, the piece wasn't designed to inflame male desire. However, the outline of her bra had thrust Brennan's breasts upward, and Booth stared at them in appreciation. His hands came up to lightly cup her breasts through the slick material of the satin slip as he squeezed them ever so lightly in appreciation through the smooth fabric and her bra.

As soon as he touched her, Brennan whimpered a bit. However, Booth knew the myriad of sounds his wife could and did make in bed—and he knew that that particular whimper wasn't a good sound.

"What is it?" he asked, the concern clearly evident in his voice.

"Nothing," Brennan said, just a bit too quickly. Plastering a smile on her face, she nodded at him. "It's nothing, Booth."

"Liar," he said instantly, letting his hands fall away from her breasts. They came to rest on the top of her thighs as he asked, "Tell me. Please?"

Twisting her head to look at him from over her shoulder, Brennan shook her head. "It's stupid."

"I don't care," he insisted. "Tell me anyway."

"It's just since I started the Clomid, one of the rather minor side effects has been some extreme tenderness in my breasts so they're just a bit more…sensitive than normal," she explained with a shake of her head. "I told you, it's stupid."

Bringing his hands up to wrap them around her torso, Booth gave her a light hug as he then pressed a light kiss at the crook of her neck. "It's not stupid. I just wish you'd told me."

"There's nothing to be concerned about," Brennan reassured him, letting her head lull to the side. "I'm fine."

"I still wish you weren't taking that crap," Booth said, his voice still husky with desire. When Brennan had told him about the mild dosage of the fertility drug she'd bullied her doctor into giving her, he hadn't liked it. However, because he knew how hard Brennan was taking their lack of ability to conceive a second child like some personal failure or shortcoming on her own part, he'd grudgingly acceded to her wish and supported her since she'd told him about the choice she'd made to go on the drug.

"I know," she said. "But, what's done is done—"

"I know, I know," Booth sighed. "I just…well, you can't blame me if we end up with something crazy like twins on this one, Bones."

Brennan narrowed her eyes as she said playfully, "Conception of twins would necessitate us actually having sex, Booth. Since there seems to have been a delay in the countdown in that endeavor, I'm currently not too concerned over the matter."

Rolling his eyes at her taunt, Booth nodded. "Fine. You want to take care of any delays, Bones? Then how about you stand up and loose the slip, huh?"

A twinkle in her eye, Brennan pushed herself up out of his lap. Turning around to face him, she reached down with both hands as she pulled at the hem of the chemise, tugged it up over her head, and let to fall to the floor in a whisper of hushed satin. Standing clad before him in a light blue pushup bra and a light blue pair of high-cut satin string bikinis, Brennan nodded at him. "Better?"

"Much," Booth said as he licked his lips in both appreciation and anticipation of the sight before him. "Much, much better."

"Good—"

"Now, come here, would ya?" he grinned at her.

Sauntering towards him with a rather sexy look on her face, Brennan moved to cover her body with his.

However, Booth shook his head slightly in response to her overture as he said, "No."

"What?" she asked, the sexy look that just had been on her face turning in a slight look of confusion.

"Nothing," Booth said, giving her a reassuring grin. "Just… come sit in my lap, huh?"

"Hmmmmm," Brennan said. "You're not going to tell me why?"

"Nope," he said, a grin coming onto his face. "But, if you trust me, I promise you'll like it."

Shaking her head at him in an indulgent way, Brennan watched as Booth scooted back a bit further into the middle of their bed. He opened his legs so that there was enough room for her to sit on the edge of the bed with her legs hanging off, almost but not quite touching the ground.

Gesturing to her with his index finger, Booth repeated his earlier entreaty. "Come 'ere," he said, his voice growing gravely with lust as he admired the curves of his wife's form as the bra and panties accentuated some of her best features.

Turning so that her back was to his chest, she shivered slightly when she settled against him and felt the roughness of his stubbled chin against the soft crook of her neck when he rested it on her shoulder.

"God, I love you," he whispered. "I love you," he breathed into her ear, the warm moisture of his husky breath causing the tiny hairs on the back of her neck to stand up straight on end as he began to trail a delicious string of wet kisses along the curve of her neck. "Love you," he whispered in a slight chant in between each kiss he gave her. "Love you."

When his lips encountered the irksome barrier of her right bra strap, he growled a bit in annoyance, but slowed his movements.

"I don't want to hurt you," he said softly, his voice hoarse with want. "Tell me what to do."

"Fuck it," Brennan said, her hand coming up to rest against the side of his head as she dug her fingers into the back of his scalp. "Take it off."

"You sure?' he asked, his tongue darting out to draw a parallel line to where the strap fell over the curve of her shoulder.

"Yes," she hissed at the rough nature of his pebbled and wet tongue as it rolled over the smoothness of her creamy skin. "God, yes."

Moving her other hand, she gently pulled the strap away and shrugged one arm out of it in impatience.

"Booth—" she whispered softly.

"Yeah, Bones?" came the graveled reply.

"Touch me," she encouraged him. "Now, touch me."

Never one to have to be told twice where sex and Brennan was concerned, Booth pulled away from her just enough so that he could unclasp the bra. He pulled it taut against her chest once before he let it fall away from Brennan. Her breasts, no longer constrained by the confines of the flowing material, bounced free. Looking at her from over the curve of her shoulder, Booth couldn't help it as he again smacked his lips in anticipation. Her nipples had already transitioned from their normal dark rose colored pinkiness to a more swarthy perfection as they stood rigid thanks to the beginning stirrings of her arousal and the fact that she knew Booth was looking at them and ached to touch them, but was holding back. As he saw the darkness of her areolae, compared to the flushed beauty of her pale skin, Booth knew he wouldn't be able to help himself if he moved in any direction near her tender breasts.

Almost as if she sensed what he was thinking, she said, "You can touch me." As she spoke, Brennan was surprised at how throaty her voice sounded when she actually managed to string enough coherent thoughts together to finish a simple sentence. God, what you do to me, Booth, the rogue thought echoed in her head. Even after all these years, you can still reduce my vocabulary to that of Chrissy's level with just one look. God, I love you—

Leaning in, Booth pressed his still clothed chest against Brennan's naked back. She inhaled quickly as she felt the roughness of his cotton shirt and the stiff material of his suspenders brush against her soft skin. Tilting his head, Booth moved his face so that his lips fell against the opposite side of her neck. "I am touching you," he pointed out.

"But—" she began to protest, her cry of displeasure catching in her throat.

Reaching up, he nipped her earlobe with a slight movement that again caused her to hiss at the pleasurable pain of his touch. Booth's tongue darted out as he moved his wet touch over the lower curve of her ear and then whispered, "Don't want to hurt you," he said. "And, I can't help myself if I go near those luscious tits of yours with my mouth, Bones."

"Then," she said as she arched her back into his chest, loving the delicious feel of the suspenders against her skin, "Touch me somewhere else."

Moving his mouth lower, Booth found the pulse point of her throat and knew Brennan's heart was beating extremely fast as he said, "Any suggestions?"

Reaching up, as Brennan suddenly remembered that Booth's hands were still wrapped lightly around her waist, she took his hands in hers and guided them in a wonderfully torturous slide of his palms across the softness of her belly to the center of her navel. His palms rested lightly on her stomach for a minute before she opened her own legs a bit wider. When the tops of his fingertips just touched the smooth waistband of the satin blue panties she still wore, she pulled her own hands away with great reluctance. But, knowing she trusted her husband to touch her as he knew she loved to be touched, Brennan brought her own arms back up at they wrapped around his head. Her fingers interlaced at the base of his skull, the short hairs of his spiky haircut feeling wonderful in their hard softness as they stood straight up thanks to the gel he always used to style his hair. Turning her face to meet his, her head suddenly found his eager lips by way of an answer.

They came together in softness at first, his lips pressed to hers in a tenderly familiar touch. However, neither one of them patient where the other was concerned, all too soon the chaste kiss gave way to something more dangerous. Booth opened his mouth a bit wider and nudged hers to grant him entrance. All too ready for him, as soon as his tongue plunged into her mouth, it met hers in a greedy tousle. As her tongue slid over the edge of his taste buds, he swore that he could taste the salty, sweet, and sourness all in one tart moment of perfection as their kiss deepened. Brennan groaned at the kiss, and Booth's mouth swallowed her groan as he opened his mouth wider and continued to twist his tongue in rhythm with hers. Pulling back slightly, his closed his mouth a bit as he pulled her top lip between his teeth and sucked on it like it was a sweet piece of hard candy that only became sweeter the more his tongue twirled around it.

At last, the necessity to breathe pulled them apart, and Brennan winced as she felt her tits ache from the heaviness of longing for Booth and the way they'd bounced as her chest rose and fell, filling itself with vital air with each mouthful of oxygen she sucked down into her lungs. She also resented the lack of attention from her husband's wonderful mouth, but that wrong was quickly righted as he moved to distract her with another way that his body could pleasure hers.

The calloused fingertips of his hands lightly pulled at the waistband of her panties for only the briefest of seconds before he let his hands creep inside the silky depths concealed by the panties' satin perfection. Following a well-worn path from the top of her warm folds, through the moist softness of her curls, Booth used one hand to trace the left side of her labia from top to bottom and back again as his right hand mirrored his efforts on the opposite side. Given the fact that she'd already been aroused from the moment Booth unzipped her dress, neither one of them was surprised when her excitement grew as he continued to touch her. A fresh rush of wetness covered his fingers as Booth resisted the temptation to part her slit, and Brennan moaned as she leaned back into him.

"Booth," she murmured, speaking his name as if it were a sacred chant on the wind. "Ohhh, Booth."

"God," he moaned into her ear, her warmth gathering on his finger tips in a thick coating that almost seamed to burn him the closer he came to touching her in the only place that Brennan wanted his fingers in that moment, and the sensations began to drive him out of his mind. "Oh, God, Bones—"

"What?" she breathed.

"I thought…I thought I could wait," he said, his fingers retreating a bit in that moment to rest at the top of her mons, drawing small circles around her clitoris. Brennan closed her eyes as she moaned in pleasure at his touch. "I wanted to make you come first."

Wiggling her ass against him, Brennan felt the sigh escape from Booth's lips as she felt his straining erection press into her bottom.

"No," she whispered, moving her hands for the first time in several long minutes. "I can't wait—we can't wait for that," she breathed. As she gently brushed his hands away from her pelvis, Brennan turned around and pushed Booth onto the bed, climbing on top of him as she went.

"Oh, God, Bones—" he moaned, as her warm body, already pulsing with its own energy, slithered up his still clothed and tightly restrained form.

Reaching down, she grinned as she shifted so that she straddled him, one knee on either side of his hips, reached down, and ran her fingers underneath the taut line of his black suspenders. Giving them a sharp snap, Booth's eyes focused on hers in disbelief. They'd already darkened into a black so deep that Brennan doubted that a star could pierce the inky blankness of the evening sky if it became as dark as the way Booth's irises stared at her now.

"Stop that," he rasped, his hands coming up to cup either side of her face as he pulled her down to his face in a hungry kiss.

However, when Brennan's tits pressed against Booth's, her sensitivity already heightened by both the fertility drug side effects and her arousal, she cried out in a moan that was somewhere between pleasure and pain.

"Booth," she whimpered. "Please, ahhhh, please, help me."

"Oh, Bones," he moaned into her kiss.

"I'm…I'm in trouble, Booth," she moaned. "Need you—now…I need you so badly."

"Tell me what to do," he groaned. "Tell me."

"I want you," she murmured. "Ahh…ahhhh…..ahhhhhh. I want you, Booth. I want you so badly that it's killing me."

"I need to be inside you," he whispered, moving his head to her ear. "Now."

"Yes," she agreed as he rolled them so that Brennan as underneath them, and he was on top. "God, yes. I need you. I can't think about anything else but you, Booth—inside me."

"I need to hold you," he whispered, poised above her as he began to hurriedly undress. Practically ripping his French blue shirt off his body, several white buttons popped in Booth's frenzied efforts to get his clothing off of his body as quickly as possible. "I need to touch you and to smell you," he breathed as the blue shirt came mercifully off his body. His large hands fumbled with the belt buckle at his waist but in a matter of seconds, it too came free as he popped the buttons on his suit trousers off and hastily pushed the pants and his boxers down and off his hips in one fluid movement. "I need to taste you, Bones—I need to feel you. Now, right now."

Looking up, Brennan met his gaze, not certain where this frenzy had fallen upon them from as he lifted on leg and then the other to push away what was left of his clothing. Soon, his slightly suntanned body loomed over hers, and Brennan felt her arousal increase, the familiar buzzing in her stomach beginning to hum steadily louder and more strongly with each second that passed. Emanating from her hot and tight center, it traveled all the way to the tips of her toes, and back again, Brennan knew she was already cresting towards a climax and that it wouldn't take much on Booth's part to push her over the edge.

"Hurry," she encouraged him. "I'm so close already."

"Wait for me," he almost begged, the plea in his normally strong voice almost undoing her in that moment with its tenderness. "Please, wait for me."

"I'll try," she said with a nod. "But, hurry."

Leveling his lust-filled gaze at her, Booth nodded as he said with a half-growl. "Trust me?"

"Always," she nodded with a shining and true stare. "Always, Booth."

Nodding once, he reached down and slid an arm under Brennan's back. Helping her arch her back off the bed, he said softly, "Roll over."

After a few seconds of awkward shuffling, Brennan suddenly found herself upright in the middle of their bed on all fours. She felt Booth peel the soaked fabric of her panties off her hips, over the curve of her ass, and let them bunch at her knees. The feel of the tight fabric against her hypersensitive skin was almost too much in that second, but her head hung down limply as she concentrated only on staying up right. She feared that she might pass out from pleasure when she felt the tip of Booth's hard cock trace the swollen crevice of her wet slit.

Pulling back slightly, Booth almost came in that moment at the sight of her perfect ass upthrust at him, waiting for his attentions. However, closing his eyes, he took several deep breaths as he tried to focus himself. As he did so, almost as if his hands had a find of their own, one of his hands came to lightly wrap around his swollen cock as he pumped himself—once, twice, three times in anticipation.

"Booth," she suddenly cried out. Unable to see what was going on, all Brennan knew was that she couldn't wait any longer. "Ahhh, please, Booth…need you—need you now. Right now."

"More?" he gasped.

"Yes," she hissed. "Always—I always want more with you, Booth."

"More," he grunted in understanding, even if he couldn't verbalize more than that single word of coherent thought in that moment. "More," he repeated.

Unable to deny his wife any longer, Booth positioned himself at her entrance, the heat emanating from her almost blistering him as he finally touched her. He drew a light circle with the tip of his cock around her once before he closed his eyes, took a swift breath, and then pistoned into her with a forceful movement.

Brennan cried out, not from hurt or even satisfaction at the feeling of him movement, but just with gratitude at finally feeling Booth fill her. Her hands fisted some of their sheets as her head snapped up and faced their bedroom door.

"You belong to me," Booth moaned as he used his hands to steady her swaying hips each time he pulled out of her and then slammed himself so tightly that he was buried to the hilt. "You're mine," he groaned. "You belong to me, and you're mine."

"Always," she repeated, lifting her ass as she tried to match his movements and found herself being thwarted each time as his hard grasp kept her pelvis stationary. Breathing in short, rapid gasps, the pair were matched in how hard their hearts were pounding and how sweat had started to bead on each of their foreheads, their hair becoming frizzy and damp with the efforts of their gratifying exertions. "Ohhhh, Booth," she groaned. "Ohhhh, ohhhhh—aaaallll-lwwwwaaayyyss."

"Bones," he groaned. "Oh, fuck—say it."

"I belong to you," she moaned. "I'm yours."

"And, that's all—" he grunted as he pumped into her again. "—that—" he hissed. "—matters."

Each time that Booth pressed into her, Brennan met his thrust with a move of her own, using her kegel muscles to tighten her walls around him, making it more difficult for him to fully withdraw each time he moved in and out of her. The friction made each movement plunge into her unbearably sweet.

"Ahhhh—" she cried. "Booth—ahhhhhhhh."

"Bones—" he grunted. "Ohhhh, God. Bones."

Straightening his back, Booth knew he was extremely close, and with one more fast and hard pitch as he plunged into her, Booth felt his balls tighten and stars start to dance before his eyes as he suddenly cried out. For her part, Brennan struggled to remain upright as her orgasm came hard and fast on the edge of his, her wave of pleasure melting away slowly as she eventually became aware of the rush of blood in her ears and the pounding of her heart being the only things she could hear.

However, it was Brennan who first became aware of the world around her once again, as she felt Booth's warm body slumping lightly against hers, his weight almost too much to bear in that moment. Brennan briefly thought about just falling into the softness of their mattress, and had almost resolved to do exactly that, when a new piece of sensory data finally registered in her mind. Her heavy and languid gaze suddenly realized that an identical pair of blue eyes were standing in their now open bedroom doorway and watching her with intense interest. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and each female held the other's gaze for a moment, intrigued to see what the other would do first to break their impromptu Mexican standoff.

You know those horrible moments that everyone is always afraid they're going to have at some point in their life, but you rarely ever encounter someone who's actually had one? Well, after what happened in that moment, I can safely say that I now am in the minority who can tell a great, albeit highly embarrassing, story.

For the most part, it happened fairly quickly, and if I'd been the one that actually spoke out first, I probably could've kept the situation from spiraling out of control as quickly as it did. You see, I've always suspected that in addition to being a bit of an empath—and setting aside that most children are conditioned to respond in certain ways as its expected of them by the adults in their life —she's also become quite adroit at mimicking people. So, if I'd managed to keep my metaphorical cool, she wouldn't have panicked.

However, the decision was quickly taken out of my hands when Booth, his eyes still closed, snapped open and simply blinked several times in the direction in which he was currently facing. Still positioned as he was behind me, that direction was in the same direction of our bedroom door and our toddler who'd gotten out of her bedroom and come 'exploring' once more. His mind still hazed by the fog of his powerful orgasm, it took Booth a moment for his brain to understand what his eyes were actually seeing. Then, as it finally clicked in his head, his languid gaze widened in shock. I felt his body tense—and not in a good way—before I heard him hiss.

Then, the next set of events happened quickly, too quickly for me to remember each point individually, but I do recall that he cursed out loud.

"Fuck!" Booth yelled.

Then, Chrissy's eyes widened as she locked onto Booth at the utter of that one word—and, for the one time I wish she'd actually chosen to focus on me instead of her father, she didn't. Even if she didn't know the meaning of the word, she knew her father's tone of voice, and it scared her. Chrissy's bottom lip began to quiver, her eyes started to water, and then a piercing shriek split the air. As she started to scream, Booth cursed and twisted against me, trying to get free of our compromising position. However, in his panicked haste, he misjudged and stumbled out of bed. He landed on the floor with a heavy grunt. Pulling the bed sheet against me, I sighed as I struggled to move, instinctively going towards my screaming child.

Chrissy continued to yell, and it was her cries that eventually pulled Parker from sleep. He suddenly appeared in our doorway, took in the image of a screaming Chrissy, his father laying inert on the side of the bed, and me clad in a bedsheet that I held tucked under one arm as I walked towards his sister and swept her into my embrace.

"Oh, God," Parker muttered as he rolled his eyes at the sight that greeted his eyes. "Gross, Bones!"

Holding Chrissy against my shoulder, rubbing her back with my free hand in a soothing gesture, I said, "It's the middle of the night, and this is our bedroom, Parker."

"It doesn't mean it's not gross, Bones," Parker said, fully radiating his emo teenage angst that had taken over his normally sweet disposition since he'd turned 15. "Besides," he continued, crossing his arms. "Don't think I don't know exactly what's going on here."

"I would hope not," I said. "After all, I do believe that sex education is apart of your first-year curriculum in high school, is it not?"

"Bones!" a strangulated grunt came at my question. However, this time it wasn't from the younger person of my stepson that stood in front of me, but from the muffled voice of his father that was still on the ground by our bed for some reason.

Knowing that particular tone of Booth's voice only all too well, I nodded at Parker, "Would you please take your sister and put her back to bed?"

"Why?" Parker said as he moved to take Chrissy from my arms even as he waited for my explanation. For her part, Chrissy now seemed rather nonplussed given how much she'd been screaming just a few minutes earlier. Loving the fact that she was the center of everyone's attention, my daughter reached with open arms to her older brother. "Come 'ere, Tadpole," he said in a more gentle voice. Turning back to look at me, Parker then said, "So? Why am I putting Tadpole to bed again?"

"Because!" Booth's barely audible voice muttered from the other side of the room before I so much as had a chance to open my mouth and take a breath before speaking. "I need Bones' help here, okay?" came Booth's harried response.

"Oh, God," Parker repeated, rolling his eyes again. "Don't tell me you two are going to go back to getting it on as soon as we're outta here, because if you are...well, that's just gross, Dad...and wrong. .wrong!" He stopped and tilted his head at his sister as he said, "We're both scarred for life, now, aren't we, Tadpole?"

She stared in wide-eyed rapt attention at Parker, but wisely—perhaps reaffirming yet again that she was more my daughter than Booth's when it suited her, Chrissy said nothing.

However, displaying none of my foresight in an attempt not to annoy his father further, Parker just added metaphorical gasoline on the proverbial fire in a way that only Booths can as he bounced the baby once, made her smile, and then nodded. "Yup. Scarred for life, huh?" Turning to me, he sighed, "As soon as we're gone, you two aren't going to go at one another again like rabbits, are you, Bones?"

"Parker!" Booth grunted in frustration, at his son's words. Parker's blunt words seemed to spur Booth into action. He was clearly struggling to sit up, obviously in pain, and his frustration was growing as he couldn't so much as roll over without biting down on his lip to keep from groaning at the hurt of it.

Trying to avoid the wry smile that was threatening to crack my nondescript face at the comedy of the entire situation, I pushed away the worry I felt at Booth's obvious injury, as I slowly shook my head at my step-son and simply said, "Rest assured, Parker, your father and I won't be resuming any more sexual activities this evening."

"Good," Parker said with a firm nod. "Good."

"Although, I should clarify," I continued, not one to let Parker have the last metaphorical laugh. "It's mostly because we'd finished having sex before your sister interrupted us."

"Bones!" Parker yelled, startling the baby as Chrissy buried her head in her brother's shoulder as his loud exclamation. "Come on!"

"Bones!" Booth muttered again, echoing his son's discomfit, his voice cracking with embarrassment. "Please!"

"Oh, fine," I said, biting back a quip about the Booth DNA containing priggish tendencies. Nodding at the direction of where Booth lay unmoving, I said, "Apparently, I need to assist your father to regain his forward momentum. I'd appreciate it if you could put her back in bed and then return to your own room to resume your slumber."

Sighing, Parker said, "Fine."

"Thank you," I nodded.

"Goodnight, Bones," Parker grumbled as he turned around. "Goodnight, Dad," he called over his shoulder, the exasperation that was present in his father's voice clearly mirrored in his son's.

"Night, Bub," Booth muttered, the feigned joviality clear in his voice. "And, shut the door behind you, would ya?"

Shaking his head, Parker walked with Chrissy—since he knew he didn't need to be told twice—shut the door behind them, and left me to come around the side of the bed and stare down at my husband with one hand casually posed on my hip.

Booth looked up at me, blinking several times as he moved his head slightly, staring back at me from where he laid on his back.

"So, ummm, Booth?" I finally asked when he didn't say anything for almost a full minute.

"Yeah, Bones?" he responded.

"Is there any particular reason why you've chosen to remain prone and inert on our bedroom floor?" I inquired.

"Uhhh," Booth said, blinking at me, a look of hurt on his face. "Ummm…I know you probably don't want to hear this, but I don't think I can move right now."

A wave of fresh concern washed over me as I suddenly bent down and knelt next to him wondering how badly things actually were. "Why not? What did you do?"

"My back," he said as he tried to lift himself off the ground, winced, and then immediately fell back into the hardwood of our bedroom with a painful grunt. "Damn, Bones—my back…I think…I think it's not good."

Sighing, I brushed an errant strand of hair off his sweaty forehead as I said, "Give me a minute. Let me put some clothes on, and then we'll see how bad it is."

"It's bad," Booth called as I stood and moved to dress. "I don't know how bad, but I can't really move with wincing, Bones."

"Wonderful," I muttered as I went to my dresser, pulled out a fresh bra and pair of panties, and began to dress. "Just wonderful."

Of course, I used the term in the ironic sense, but I wouldn't find out just how ironic my statement was until the next day when Booth was high on pain meds. Great. Just Great. But, not really...no.

-DELETE-

-TBC-

Author's Note - continued - So, the trials and tribulations of having a child that may just be too smart for their own good is now wrecking havoc on their sex life. Coming up next—Booth's thrown out his back again, is high on pain meds, but still has to participate in a conference call with Sully about one of their cases. Might he say something that finally alerts the whole gang to just how much B&B have been keeping from their co-workers and friends over the past few years? And, plus…you didn't think that I'd forgotten about good ole Michael Stires, now, did you? He's back in D.C., too, and wants to have another conversation with Brennan. So…I know it's been a while since this story has been on a regular update status, but we're starting to get to the half-way point. So, if you're interested in these revelations (plus, who in the hell murdered Hannah Burley?)—well, chime in and let me know you're still with me. And, if it's not too much to ask…well, any feedback about the smut is always a good thing to know, too. So, thanks again, and stay tuned!~