superthanks to heatherberry for her awesome beta of this chapter!

sorry for the last chapter taking so long. i'd hoped to finish this before work got busy, but no such luck. delays seem to be the watchword around here, but here we are. we've come to the end. 7 months, 30 chapters, and 90,000 words in the making! huge thank yous to each and every person who's ever reviewed or fav'd my story! if you've enjoyed it, please let me know. anonymous reviews are still activated. and tell all your friends who don't like to read incomplete stories to come on by and check it out.

The rest of the night was spent in what Brennan thought of as an analog to gravitational potential energy. They'd only just finished eating when Booth pushed aside the table's contents and pinned her beneath him.

It was a relief. It seemed that their default, their comfortable state was to be tightly together in each others' arms, but they occasionally pulled their faces and torsos apart long enough to investigate new positions.

Brennan found herself very glad that her bedroom shared no walls with neighbors when the creaking bed echoed down the long hallway and her headboard slammed rhythmically against the wall. He pressed her deeply into the mattress and they each held onto the sturdy wooden frame as they thrust into each other. She came with a breath and a fierce cry and he followed, falling onto her.

There they lay, tied in each other's arms, sound kisses enveloping their consciousness until they regained their energy and he began to stir inside her again.

She spun over and rose to her hands and knees. Booth smiled, wondering that she should suggest this pose. But damned if she wasn't right. When he rose behind and entered her, they each groaned at the sweetness that could come from even this little body contact. Brennan grasped at the sheets and met his thrusts with rotation in her hips. When his fingernails began to graze up and down her back, she dropped her shoulders to the bed and grabbed for a pillow to muffle her scream.

The nails along her skin didn't stop until her shuddering release had slowed and he paused his movement. Then Booth reached around from right behind her and flung the pillow across the room. "Baby," he growled, "I want to hear everything I do to you."

She trembled again at his words and he gently pushed on her hips until she lay flat on her stomach. Then he penetrated her again and pressed all of his weight on her, let his head fall next to her ear so she could hear his ragged breathing and occasional curses while he pumped into her. At this angle, while the position of her legs allowed for less depth, he was perfectly poised to hit the spot that would set her quivering. As through that wasn't enough, he wound his arms beneath her, sliding one between her full breasts and the other down to massage her clit. She could hardly help but wail his name, and Booth relished the sound as they wound themselves in knots of pleasure.

From his throat came a low chanting moan in time to his thrusts. Temperance... oh God, Temperance... oh God, I love you. Come for me, baby. Come again. Ohh, I need you. I need to feel you come.

His hot breath filling her ear, the smooth movement of his hips, his finger circling her clit all coiled her tightly and threatened to push her over the edge.

"Bones," he breathed into her neck, guttural, husking.

That did it. She jerked beneath him, but he held her fast and maintained his stroking while the orgasm stole over her and he pulsed within her.

They each rolled to their sides to let their lips meet, falling back to the ground state. Their arms beneath stretched upwards and ended in fingers that coiled together and their lips danced together until once again he grew fervent.

When his head gravitated toward her hips, she pulled and squirmed until they lay end to end and she could reach him. It was then that she discovered what he meant about losing control when she took him in her mouth. He growled and grasped her buttocks tightly, delving in and devouring her with an enthusiasm that made her head swim.

According to her hypothesis, some the greatest potential energy should have been when she rose above him and leaned back against his knees.

She wasn't disappointed. Arching like a bridge against his bent legs and sliding her sweaty body easily up and down was one of the most intense experiences of her life. Booth helped, of course, cupping his hands beneath her as she rode him. But from that vantage point she could revel in the glory of his warrior's body, hot long torso flexing to connect with her.

The hours passed and their endurance knew no limit and she screamed his name over and over again. As promised.

When neither had quite the energy for acrobatics, they simply explored the intricacies of gentle lovemaking. Just wet bodies rocking slowly together in love and admiration. He took up residence in her heart and she found her hypothesis disproved. When they made love like this, bound tightly together, not an inch of space between them, there was the greatest potential.

Ah, she thought, we're breaking the laws of physics.

While they stirred, he whispered admissions and secrets in her ear. Things she never dreamed that she would hear. And the moving way that Brennan breathed his name in his ear while she came was more powerful for him than her screams.

Slivers of light streamed around her window shades and Booth watched particles waft lazily just above the sheets. Oddly enough, he didn't feel sleepy. Must be your fifth wind. Brennan lay on her stomach beside him with her face turned in the other direction. Positioning himself so that his face was just behind her head, he inhaled her shampoo with each breath and felt the tickle of the long strands caught in his stubble.

"You know what sounds really good?" he asked into her messy hair.

"Sleep?" she mumbled.

"Pancakes."

"Yes, sleep."

"No, it's Saturday morning. It's time for pancakes."

"It's time for inactivity of the nervous system and suspended consciousness," she muttered.

How did she talk like that when she was halfway to dreamland? "Bones, if we sleep much longer it won't be Saturday morning anymore and then pancakes won't taste as good."

"We can't sleep much longer when we haven't slept at all."

He grinned. "Complaining?"

"No, but you can't wear me out like that and then expect me to jump up and be all light-eyed and fluffy-sailed."

"Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed."

He wondered why he was still so active. It probably would be best to rest. Patience, Seel. The weekend will still be here in a few hours. Get some sleep.

He blinked.

"I'm gonna go make pancakes," Booth announced.

"I thought we'd learned our lesson about syrup."

"I suppose so," he sighed sadly.

"Do I even have any?"

"Angela stocked your fridge, remember? Look, you sleep, I'll go figure something out for breakfast. You have eggs, right?"

Already dozing off again, she made no reply, nor any move to stop him when he stood. Booth rounded the bed and observed his partner's form. For the years he'd known her, he'd always admired her feminine shape, but he decided he hadn't spent nearly enough time truly appreciating it.

Both hands were curled up under her pillow, elbows pointing straight out. The side of one breast peeked at him from where her chest was pressed against the bed and he followed her soft curves as they narrowed, dipped, and finally came to the swell just barely covered by the Egyptian cotton. She snored lightly with that telltale glow betraying the quantity and quality of her orgasms. From the splay of her hair that stuck to her dewy neck to the toes peeking out at the end of the bed, she was gorgeous. Booth's chest puffed involuntarily while he retreated down the hallway.

She was roused from heavy sleep by pressure on the bed, followed by a cold thread that drew itself up her spine to the base of her neck. A clunk on the bedside table and she felt hot breath at the hollow just above her ass. She glanced over and saw light glint through the translucent brown contents of a small glass cream pitcher. Booth's tongue began to slowly meander and swirl its way up her back.

Suddenly, she wasn't sleepy anymore.

"Mmm, you taste good." His voice's rumbling set her skin on alert.

"That's the syrup."

He dropped his nose so she could feel him shaking his head. "No. That's you."

Chills suffused her nervous system until he finally reached her neck and she flipped over beneath him. She had to admit that she loved the taste of sweetness on his tongue. Who knew she'd be such a sucker for processed sugar? But, she supposed, when it was served in that dish, she'd be fed anything.

Brennan reached over and dipped her thumb into the little pot of syrup on the bedside table and ran it along his collarbone, offering her thumb to his mouth, which he took with zeal. She let her own tongue lavish over his skin and experienced the mingling of the sweetness of the syrup and the salty male musk of his skin.

She sighed, "You taste good too."

"That's the syrup," he mimicked.

"Oh, you're right, it is the syrup," she teased. But she continued to lick him long after it was gone.

And her tongue ventured far beyond his collarbone.

An hour later, they'd tossed the sheets from her bed into the washer and hopped into the shower together.

"Could you pass the shampoo?"

Booth picked up a bottle and handed it to her. "You know I wouldn't have taken you for an Herbal Essences kind of woman."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought you'd have some organic animal-friendly eco-suds."

"Well, I got this stuff about a month ago. I saw a commercial at Angela's and I thought I'd give it a try. She flipped the top open. I must say, though, it isn't really as good as advertised. I might just go back to my eco-suds."

"You don't like the smell?"

"Well, it's not that. It smells very nice. It's just... it's not as pleasurable as the advertisements indicate."

For one second, Booth looked at her. He searched for a sign of sarcasm, for some hint that it was a joke. Where was it? That had to have been...

Oh, God. She's serious.

He roared with laughter.

"What?" she cried defensively, voice cracking.

But he could not stop laughing.

"Why are you laughing at me?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he squeaked between breaths. "It's just so adorable that you take commercials at face value!"

"Condescending."

"No, Bones, this is justifiably funny." His laughter faded to a grin and occasional chuckles. "It is far from common in our society to take commercials literally. You really thought that shampoo could give you an orgasm?"

"Well, there are herbs that can act as aphrodisiacs. It's plausible that a product could encourage stimulation of various erogenous zones."

Booth pressed his lips tightly together to repress another laugh and gave a facetious nod.

"Scent is a strong trigger," she argued. "And, well, it was worth 3.99 to test it."

"Bones, if you want an orgasm in the shower, all you have to do is ask. I guarantee much better results than shampoo."

Fifteen minutes later, when he'd lured her out of her pout and given her several evidences to contemplate, she decided that he was right, and gave up her experiment with the highly touted hair product.

And, frustratingly enough, it left her stomach growling.

"Did you come up with something for breakfast?"

"Yes. Pancakes."

"Booth..."

"Come on, Bones. Syrup has just redeemed its good name. I'm not going to let that whole poisoning thing spoil one of my favorite foods."

"Do you think Columbine will be convicted of all of the charges against Marvin Beckett?"

Booth stared at the woman cradled against his shoulder in disbelief. "Columbo, Bones! Honestly, he tried to kill us twice and you can't remember his name?"

"You can't seem to remember Gomogon's name and he tried to kill us."

"Only once though. The second time is the internationally-accepted juncture where you learn how to properly refer to your assailant."

"Mmm. I see. I shall make the effort."

Brennan silently confirmed her intent never to state the name properly, as she had done since shortly after the first time she'd blundered it. She was a little surprised that Booth hadn't figured out that it was intentional.

Gorgonzola. Pfft. She'd teach Booth about using the wrong name if she had to do it until the day she died. In his arms. At the ripe old age of 90.

She inhaled deep and his scent filled her senses. With that she tilted her face up to his and they sank into a kiss deeper than the Pacific, punctuated by light jabs and tickling and eventually intermixed with ravenous desire as they spoke their love over and over into each other's flesh. They reveled, came, and melted together, and when they began bickering again, lying so comfortably in each others' arms, it occurred to her that it felt suspiciously like home.

From the slacks on the floor, from the purse in the next room, two cell phones rang nearly simultaneously. Booth took down the address and they dressed quickly.

"Back to work, eh, Bones?"

"There are always more cases," she said, donning a jacket.

"Now all we need is an international one."

"International? Where do you plan to hunt murderers next?"

"Oh, I don't know... France?" He picked up his holster and slid it over his broad shoulders.

"Tu ne parles pas le francais. Tu n'aime rien de francais."

"England?"

Brennan grabbed her keys and purse. "I find it highly unlikely that you'd be an effective left-side driver."

He opened the front door and eyed her as she passed.

"...Thailand?"

"Booth..." Warning tone.

"Just saying!" He raised his hands defensively as the door clicked shut behind them.

the end.

thank you so much for following me through our adventure!