sigh... this insomnia is really going to be the death of me. but i thought i'd at least be productive and make a little M-rated gift for y'all. after all, jamie needs something to read while she blow-dries her hair in the morning, and my friend jenn needs something to make her stop hating me for ignoring another fic i have on a different board.

this is simple, just a little one-shot after after booth's fight in vegas. i know it's been done a lot, but i've never written it, and was watching that episode recently and was struck by the look in her eyes when he wins. it prompted this little piece. :) hope you enjoy... xoxo mia

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You With Me

a one-shot.

She pressed the white hotel washcloth gently against the cut on his forehead and he hissed at the contact. Wincing herself at the pain he was obviously in, she dabbed more carefully. When she pulled it back, she saw the bright red blossoming against the white cotton loops of the towel.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Her partner closed his eyes, shaking his head. "It's alright," he murmured. "Just stings a little."

Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she tilted his chin slightly with her hand, moving the cloth to another gash along his cheek. "This is going to be bruised tomorrow."

"A lot's going to be bruised tomorrow," he muttered. "I got the shit kicked out of me."

He was seated on the end of the bed in their hotel room, and she was kneeling between his feet. Images of his fight flashed through her mind, and while she'd given him the information he'd needed to win, the memory of his fist connecting with the other fighter's jaw was a vivid one. His chest had heaved with unsteady breath as the other man fell to the cement floor, and his shoulders had slumped slightly with relief.

But the thrill that had raced through her own body at the sight of him in those few moments had startled her.

It had been undeniably sexy. He'd taken down a man nearly twice his size, and he'd still been standing in the aftermath. He'd looked like a warrior, bloodstained and victorious, and she'd felt an undeniable, instinctual response to such a sight. She'd never particularly liked violence, but he'd done this to protect them both and find the truth. And when she'd thrown her arms around him, it had not simply been out of relief and fear that he would collapse.

It had been to feel his body against hers, to feel the sweat and the muscle and raw strength he'd displayed.

And later, after the arrests had been made and the other agents had left the scene, they had returned to this hotel room, leaving her to tend to his cuts and bruises.

She glanced at the stained white shirt stretching across his chest and hesitated. His eyes were still closed, his chest still rising and falling evenly. She hated to disturb him. Still, he'd asked her to help him, and she needed to check and see the extent of the damages. Making a decision, she caught the edge of the shirt with her fingers and started to gently pull it up his torso. His eyes opened slowly, and just before he lifted his arms and the cotton obscured his face, they met hers, and something flickered between them.

He winced again as she eased the shirt off of him, and she found herself repeating her earlier apology. Again he brushed her off, and she turned to the small first aid kit on the floor by her feet, tugging out a packet of gauze.

"You're really not too bad," she murmured. "Just some bruises and superficial cuts."

He chuckled. "Oh, yeah? Feels like I was hit by a Mach Truck."

She dropped her eyes from his shoulder and allowed herself to study his chest under the guise of searching for more injuries. There was something about his body that was making her feel warm all over, something she'd noticed before in the simple way that he moved, but was now right in front of her.

Broad shouldered and muscled, his body had a grace in the way that he moved, but spoke of fierce strength. He looked natural, real. He didn't have the arms or chest of someone who simply pumped iron in a gym and drank protein shakes. He had the easy, confident strength of someone who used his body regularly; who could defend when needed and be gentle when necessary.

He was an alpha-male in all his glory, and it brought a blush to her cheeks. She'd always thought him to be an attractive man, but tonight she'd felt an ancient and evolutionary pull towards him that traveled through her body like a bolt of lightning.

"What's wrong?" he murmured. She could feel his eyes on her face, and it only caused her to blush further.

"Nothing," she said quietly, peeling the paper back from the gauze and pressing it lightly to his shoulder, reaching for some tape. "It's just warm in here."

He nodded slowly, and she winced at her lameness – the room was air-conditioned and plenty cool.

"I'm glad you're okay," she said, struggling with the tape. The fake red nails she was wearing were making things difficult, and she frowned until he reached for the roll. Handing it over, she watched as he effortlessly ripped off several pieces, handing them back to her. Even ripping tape was making her warm.

"I'm alright because of you," he told her sincerely. "Thanks, Bones. I couldn't have won that without you."

She flushed. She wasn't entirely sure that was true. Something about him made her believe he might have found his own way to win a fight if necessary. She'd just sped up the process. Seeley Booth was a survivor.

Pressing the last piece of tape to his shoulder, she sat back, surveying her work. "I think that's all the cuts."

He glanced down and nodded, his large hand coming up to rub his bare chest distractedly, and her stomach flip-flopped. She felt like she'd lost all control of her responses all of a sudden.

"You need anything else?" she murmured, sitting back on her heels.

He glanced up at her, and for a moment his eyes sparkled with amusement. "Who's asking?" he joked. "Roxie? Or my partner?"

She felt a pulse between her legs at his teasing words. There was something about tonight, something about Vegas that had her knocked sideways, had her off balance. The red dress she wore; the scarlet lipstick and three-inch heels. For a moment, she'd been able to pretend, to be someone other than Temperance Brennan. She'd been able to feel like a silly woman on the arm of a man who fought like a warrior she'd only read about in books, to feel sexy and sway her hips and tease with her eyes. She'd charmed, and people had responded, they'd looked at her like she was a woman, not a scientist.

And he was definitely a man. Accustomed to seeing him in expensive suits or t-shirts and his army green jacket, she'd been enthralled with the bare skin of his muscular arms, of the lines of his hips and strength of his back.

She raised her eyes to his slowly, her chin tilting. "Why do you ask?"

He gave her a crooked grin. "I was kidding, Bones."

She wanted to know what it was like, to feel those arms around her again. But this time, she didn't want him to be holding on to her for support, or to be comforting her while she cried about her everything in her life that had bubbled to the surface in the last year.

She wanted to know what he felt like as a man, not as a partner or friend.

Pushing back up onto her knees, she brought her face closer to his, her chin tilting slightly as she studied him. What would he do? Would he blush or pull away if she tried to kiss him? And could she bring herself to do so?

She was close enough that he most likely could feel her breath on his lips, and his eyes glittered suddenly, the soft brown darkening to a rich chocolate. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly.

"Wondering," she said simply.

He swallowed, letting out a slow breath that touched her cheek. "Wondering what?"

She hesitated. "What it would be like – to be her."

His hand was suddenly on her hip, warm and strong, and she instinctively tilted her chin forward slightly. His eyes dropped to her mouth, lingering for a moment, and she suddenly reached up and curled a hand around the back of his neck, tugging him down the last few inches.

It took him a moment to adjust, to respond, but when he did his lips parted slightly, the warmth of his mouth touched hers, and he made a sound, deep and low in his throat. She clutched him tighter, tilting her head and his hand slipped from her hip to the concave of her lower back and he was tugging her towards him, sinking his tongue into her mouth.

Oh. So this was what it was like.

His other hand slid up the bare skin of her arm, the calloused tips of his fingers making her shiver. The scent of him filled her nose, the heat from his body warming her own, and she stretched up towards him, aching to be closer. Yes, this was what it was like.

He tugged her up into his arms, pushing the hem of her skirt up her bare thighs so that she could straddle his lap, and then those arms she'd been fantasizing about came around her, holding her firmly against him.

She was having trouble holding a thought, her body dizzy with sensation. The heat of his skin and the taste of him on her tongue was making her head spin, and she let out a small moan as he tilted his hips subtly upward and she felt him against her.

He finally broke the kiss, gasping for breath, and his eyes met hers, his lids heavy, his eyes clouded with desire. "Bones," he rasped. "What are we –?"

She cut him off, her mouth returning to his eagerly, and she allowed her hands to slide from behind his neck down to his shoulders and over his arms, the muscles rippling beneath her fingertips. She undulated her hips slightly and he suddenly winced against her mouth, and she pulled back, her chest heaving.

"Did I hurt you?"

He nodded slightly, and she flushed a deep, glowing pink. "I'm sorry, I'll –"

He suddenly lifted himself and turned, sweeping her beneath him and leaving her sprawled amongst the sheets. His hand cupped her cheek and his thumb swept out to slide across her mouth, wiping the vibrant lipstick aside to leave her lips bare and his mouth followed, open and hot. She arched her back, her own tongue tangling with his.

His mouth left hers to trail along her jaw and settle hotly against her throat, and she gasped, her nails dragging down over the bare skin of his back. She could feel him, hard and hot against the exposed skin of her thigh through the fabric of his pants.

His thumb swept over the straps of her dress and bra, dragging them down over her shoulder, leaving a streak of red from her lipstick before replacing the fabric with his mouth, and she gripped a fistful of his hair. This was more than she'd imagined. She could only manage fragments of thought, only process sensation. She rolled her shoulder, urging him on, and he tugged down the entire front of her dress, exposing the black lace she'd purchased to go with the dress. He paused, his eyes raking over her body, and she felt a burst of heat at the sight of him watching her, his eyes shining with appreciation.

And then that was tugged aside as well, and his palm stroked her breast, her nipple hardening as she fought back a gasp. He teased it with his thumb before dropping his head to pull it briefly into his mouth before exhaling lightly, his breath cool against the heat of her skin, and she rolled her hips beneath him.

"I want –"

"What?" he choked out. "What do you want, tell me…?"

"Everything," she gasped. "Everything."

His lips hovered above hers for a moment before falling to pull her into a deep, taunting kiss. His tongue slid against hers, and his fingertips again grazed the skin of her thigh as he dragged them upward, slipping beneath the fabric of her red, red dress.

She moaned against his kiss, her hand falling on top of his own to push his fingers against the lace of her panties, her thighs clenching to trap his hand.

His lips returned to her breast, pulling her nipple into the warm recesses of his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath the lace between her legs, his fingers hot and strong.

Yes, this was what it was like; this was how it felt to be this bold woman, this woman with a man who was like a warrior -- a man she'd wondered about since the moment they'd met.

She tugged him back to her, wanting to feel his mouth on hers again as her hands fumbled for the buckle on his belt. Releasing the clasp, she yanked, the leather sliding quickly through the loops in her impatience. His hand was still between her legs, and when she slid her hand down the front of his pants, a growl rumbled deeply in his chest and he pressed into her palm.

He was huge and hot in her hand, and she gasped as he slid a finger inside of her, his thumb falling to her clit. Her hips quivered with his touch, and this only seemed to excite him further, and he yanked his lips from hers, sliding down her body to replace his fingers with his mouth. He slung her thighs over his shoulders, opening her to him, and she bucked her hips forward, her hair tangling against the sheets as she rolled her head from side to side.

His touch was magical, the slightest hint of new beard along his jaw rough against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He teased her, flickering his tongue, and the room filled with her breathless pleas.

It didn't take long for him to bring her tumbling over the edge – she'd been aroused since the moment he brought the other fighter to his knees. When she finally caught her breath and the lights stopped flickering in front of her vision, she tugged him up to her, her lips falling in grateful kisses against his shoulders and throat. Her hand returned to the front of his pants, having tugged the zipper further down and shoved the fabric around his hips, and she nipped at the bare skin of his chest as she wrapped her fingers around him.

He sucked in a breath at her touch, arching his own back, and she slid her tongue across his chest, sucking hard on his nipple and he gasped out, clenching his eyes shut at the sensation.

She continued to stroke him firmly as she made her way back up his throat with her lips until she reached his ear. "I want you," she whispered honestly. "More than I've ever wanted anyone..."

He jerked in her hand at her words, dropping his head to bury his face in the tumble and tangle of her hair. "Oh, god," he whispered. "Oh, god, baby…"

Baby. A word she'd never liked, a word she'd never even associated with herself until it fell from his lips, so naturally... and it was sexy. Intimate. Something a man calls a woman. This is how it feels.

"I don't… I don't have a condom," he rasped near her ear. "I don't have anything to –"

"You don't need one with me," she whispered. "I'm safe, I promise you." She cupped his face in her hands, meeting his eyes for the first time since this all began. "Is that okay?"

He nodded, his lids heavy. "You're safe, too," he swore. "I promise."

She brushed her lips over his own. "I know..."

His eyes shimmered, something new shining in them, and she kissed him again, closing her own as she shoved at the fabric of his pants, pushing them down his hips and off of him.

He dragged her dress over her head, tucking his thumbs into the waistband of her panties and sliding them down her legs, tossing them off the bed into the room. Her bra quickly followed, and then they were both skin to skin, naked in the soft lamplight of the room, and she took in a shuddering breath, the length of him against her sending a shock of electricity through her.

And then he took both her hands in his, intertwining their fingers as he pressed them into the mattress and he sank into her with a shudder. Her eyes fell closed, her whole body humming in response.

Pressing gentle kisses against her jaw and cheeks, he paused, letting her adjust to his size, and she undulated her hips, pulling a gasp from both of them. He pulled back slightly before thrusting deeply again, and her legs wound around his hips as her fingers curled more tightly against his own.

"Temperance…" he choked out. "Temperance, look at me."

And she did, she opened her eyes as he moved within her, and she thought, yes. This is what it's like.

You with me.

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p.s. i made a new video as well... the link is on my profile page, if you're into that sort of thing. hope you enjoyed the little bit of fun, and i'l love to hear from you.