SORRY THIS IS SO LATE, I HAD AN AWFUL CASE OF WRITER'S BLOCK THAT LEFT ME RATHER FRUSTRATED AND LOST... I'm back, and here it is!

B&B's Sex on Washing Machine scene, with A LOT MORE ACTION before being interrupted by national importance.

Song playing for this: Come Home by One Republic ft Sara Bareilles... so touching and appropriate. :)

"Sometimes even to live is an act of courage." ― Seneca

WARNING: Inappropriate R21 scene ahead. Proceed at own risk, and try not to read this at work. ;)

"Booth, I'm sorry." Brennan said softly, almost to herself.

She had acted on an impulse - an irrational, illogical prompt in which certain behaviours are triggered by emotional or environmental stimulus - something she had been repeating at an increasing rate since her fugitive days.

She identified the emotional trigger as the result of watching her life partner, Seeley Booth, load the laundry into the washing machine. It had occurred to her, with startling and frightening clarity, that both their lives had become increasingly domestic. She had never dreamed of a life in which she came home to a double bed, to cooking dinner for Booth and Christine, to worry about the dishes and Booth doing the laundry. It was a scary, yet strangely calming turn her life had taken and she felt undeserving of the man who made this possible. This was followed by a sudden need to express her gratitude and affection for this man before her.

All her scientific training and self-conditioning had taught her to be distant, and when needed to maintain a show of social behaviors pertinent to assimilating into the culture. However, with Booth and in the Lab, she never found the need to put on such superficial pretences. She had hoped (secretly) that after her return from her fugitive days that a heightened ability to read social gestures and body language would enable her to communicate better with Booth. Instead, she found she was incapable of doing so. In fact, she found herself constantly comparing her own non-verbal skills and ground knowledge to Booth's similar attributes. As a result of such constant measuring of both their abilities, she found herself weary and fearful that her partner would, too, finally realize she had such low capability in the field.

Brennan had found herself inadequate of her partner.

Now she watched as his trapezoidal muscles contracted at her quiet apology. She braced to explain herself as he started turning around.

Booth turned around, and his heart contracted fiercely at the tears in Bone's eyes.

He had imagined life after their reunion many times, in so many ways, but never like this. He habitually enveloped his best friend in his warmth, and fell the tense muscles in Brennan's shoulders loosen. He also realized that his body had mirrored Brennan's tense state, and he flexed the knots out of his arms.

"Bones... I'm sorry I've been angry and distant. I just wanted you back so much... and I had no idea where you were... and despite all the madness, I still love you very, very much. You are a wonderful mother and partner, Bones." He tipped her back slightly to look down into her confused eyes. "There's no reason to run now, baby. Welcome home."

"But Booth..." Brennan started to verbalize her thoughts, both confounded at Booth's logic, yet astounded that this man had so nearly read her mind (if telepathy between partners were an established social occurrence). She met Booth's eyes.

Booth was struck defenseless by the raw bewilderment and awe in Bone's eyes. Damn, this woman could kill me with her look, if she wanted to. At that moment, all the need and passion in Booth came to life. He switched off that meddling brain of his, and pressed his dry lips to the soft, seductive lips of Temperance Brennan.

Now this was the reunion he was looking for.

Brennan was mildly surprised when Booth pounced on her lips with fervor. Honestly, she had expected this earlier, and admittedly, was rather impressed he didn't tear her clothes off the moment they reached home. Sexual satisfaction and partnership in a child-rearing couple have long been proven to be linearly correlated, so she couldn't blame him for loosing it. Frankly, she was much more adept at proving her love, rather than wording it.

For the umpteenth time today, she thanked the cosmic universe (and Booth's God) for handing her a mate in this rather fine specimen of Seeley Booth.

She ran a tongue along his lips, and got a satisfying shiver from her partner. A little bit more tongue, and Booth's skin had flushed rather significantly. Reading his cues, she dug her fingers into Booth's trapezoidal muscles, and moaned softly into his mouth.

How does such a socially clueless woman get so good at sex? Booth immediately regretted thinking that, barely standing as Brennan let out a small needy moan. Hot damn, the woman can play me like a violin. He locked his knees, and lifted Brennan in one swift move onto the washing machine, never once leaving her lips. A tugging at the corners of her mouth meant that Booth was doing something right. He could feel her nails digging into his shoulder, the pain and the pleasure mingling into a lusty haze as he drew out the kisses.

He nearly came when the machine jumped into an accusing whine and started the wash cycle. A small giggle from Brennan let slip that she had pressed the button. He grunted and ran his hands down her smooth back under her shirt. His fingers feathered over her skin, and he subconsciously noted that she had lost weight while on the run.

His hands squeezed the sides of her waist, and he pressed his chest into hers as he blew on her left ear, suckling gently down to her neck. He inhaled a dose of his drug - the scent of Temperance Brennan - and he impulsively drew a hickey just under her ear. Brennan smacked him playfully, then mirrored his action with a love bite on his corresponding side.

Brennan could feel Booth through his jeans and her sweatpants, swollen with primal lust and months of longing. She decided that tonight was not the night to torture Booth any further, and ground herself against him. Both of them wanted slow, sweet love, but nature simply wasn't going to let that be possible. As if on cue, Booth tugged his thin cotton top off, and Brennan popped the top button of his pants. In sync, the partners lost their bottoms.

Like a kid opening his present on Christmas morning, Booth tugged the t-shirt in a swift action off Brennan, and stared dead-straight into his lover's eyes. Brennan met his hard gaze with an equally fierce one, and claimed Booth's mouth with hers, as she pulled him fully into her. She let out a gasp involuntary, the fullness of Booth disorienting her senses. He let out a low hiss as he entered her, overwhelmed with her sheathed so tightly around him after so long. They stayed fixed in this state, both knowing that if they moved, they would both spontaneously combust into pudding on top of the washing machine.

The humming from the washing machine amplified every sensation, and Booth began to shift his weight tentatively. Brennan gave an appreciative groan that her partner was trying his best to draw out their pleasure, a small gentlemanly act even when consumed with lust to ensure that he satisfied her before himself. She, however, had no intention of prolonging Booth's release.

Hooking her ankles and arms around Booth, she began to lever herself up along his body. He grunted with the movement, and responded. Grabbing her hips, he shifted her weight, quickening with every stroke, both lovers panting with the gratification of desire. He felt Brennan's body react in tune with his, her muscles shifting and tightening around him as they both sought the moment of bliss together.

A distant high-pitched noise shattered the buzz of the moment.

Both of them froze, and it Booth took a moment to register that it was his work ringtone, cutting the moment short. A huge part of him wanted to damn the phone, but he knew that the ringtone meant life or death. He swore loudly as the both of them began to hastily untangle themselves.

"Booth. This better be good..." He had answered with a brisk, curt tone, now fading away into unease. "N, don't bloody do anything until I get there!" He all but shouted, and snapped the phone shut sharply, and turned to Brennan. His voice is almost too soft and shaky to hear as he relays the message.

"They're letting Pelant go..."

whoooop! that's one scene of my list! Sorry for cutting the passion right in the middle, but... I don't write the actual show, and I didn't want to stray too far. oh well.