Log in

No account? Create an account
nondenomifan (formerly angelswilliam) [userpic]
13-older Brennan/Booth: Mmmmm, Niiiice
by nondenomifan (formerly angelswilliam) (nondenomifan)
at February 11th, 2009 (08:05 am)

current location: our living room
current mood: accomplished
current song: VH-1 Nocturnal State

Title: Mmmmm, Niiiice
Fandom: BONES
Characters: Brennan/Booth
Prompt: #134 - Delectable tamingthemuse
Rating: We'll say 13-older for focus on a body part and 1 naughty word
Genre: 3rd person POV, UST Romance
Word Count: 880, according to Semagic LJ Client for Windows
Spoilers: Season 4, "Double Trouble in the Panhandle" (First episode in January)
Summary: Brennan gets in a little ogling...but she's completely clueless that Booth is longing for her, too.
Disclaimer: Not mine. The people who created, wrote, produced, and distributed the original characters and/or plots own everything this writing is based on. This is just me having fun. Besides, I'm broke, so you won't get nuttin' if you sue.
Feedback: Concrit and stroking are welcome. Flames will get R2-D2's CO2 spray in the face.
Author's note: YAAAY, I'm writing again!!! *bounce*
Distribution: If I'm a member of your archive, community, forum, group, etc., you'll get it eventually. Anyone else, please comment with an invite.

Dr. Temperance Brennan sat at the tiny table in the FBI-provided RV, scanning the list of circus jargon Dr. Sweets had sent them while she combed her wet hair. She had just finished showering; now, she merely had to pass the time until Booth finished his.

She tried to concentrate on the terms before her, but the more time that passed, the more agitated she became and the less she could concentrate.

Historically, men were known for their brief showers, were they not? Why was it, then, that Booth's shower had already surpassed the length of hers, continued, and showed no signs of ending anytime soon?

Ah. She nodded to herself, realizing, suddenly able to focus again. He's masturbating. Of course. She paused to consider. It's quite possible he'd be a good sexual partner if it takes him this long to achieve orgasm, especially if he's fantasizing about his ideal as most people do when sexually satisfying themselves. It's entirely possible, though, that someone as obviously reserved about other people being aware of his sex life as Booth is fearful of me somehow being aware of his orgasm. She shook her head. I will never understand the tendency for people to oppress discussion of sex. Not only is it a normal, healthy, and vital part of any specie's existence; but it is also something that needs to be discussed in order to prevent the spread of sexually transmitted diseases...particularly the fatal ones.

The opening of the tiny bathroom door brought her out of her thoughts.

I didn't even hear the water stop.

Booth stepped through the door wearing nothing but a towel, his short hair unusually tousled and still dripping, water droplets still running down his perfectly formed torso...the most intriguing of which were those that clung to the end of his erect nipples before falling to the floor.

"Hey," came his voice from somewhere beyond the steam of her thoughts.

She shook herself and formed a quick smile. "Hi!" She turned to indicate the laptop monitor. "I--I...was just going over the list of terms Sweets sent us."

When Booth didn't say anything, she turned around to look at him.

He shook his head almost imperceptibly as he blinked his eyes, then focused on hers. "Oh." He nodded. "Good! That's...good."

"Yes. They're very--" Her eyes fell on those delectable pectorals of his again-- "interesting." She turned quickly to the laptop again. "The jargon. It's very intriguing."

"Right." Booth leaned over to glance at the screen, his hand on the table, then stood erect again and gestured toward the bed. "Just let me get dressed, and I'll be right there to go over it with you."

He moved toward the bed, then bent to get his clothes from the drawers underneath it...and gave her a very nice view through the towel of his perfect glut--Butt, Tempe. There are no other words for what you're seeing right now than "perfectly grabbable butt." She laughed inwardly as she thought of her friend in D.C. Angela would congratulate me for thinking that way.

Booth stood, then, his clothing clutched to his front. "I'll just--" He indicated the other end of the RV, where the bathroom was.

She nodded, acknowledging that she knew what he meant. She also knew from experience that he'd emerge with clothes as wet as he was currently because there was nowhere to move in that tiny room and thus nowhere to get away from the condensation left by the steam from their showers.

He may have been clutching his clothing to his front, robbing her of another view of those luscious, wet pectorals...but his actions did not prevent her from watching his perfect--oh, what the hell? ass!--walking away from her, its perfectly formed musculature moving smoothly with each step....

Yes, this time posing as a married knife-throwing act traveling together in an RV was going to be as good as she'd anticipated.