Booth is a Military Man at His Core (B/B, one-shot, M for smut)

Booth is a Military Man at His Core
One-Shot
Pairing: B/B
Rated: M (Smut)

A/N: Okay anyone who ventures this way ... This is my first piece of smut, and I am really proud of it, but you have to promise not to laugh. You can comment and critique it for me, and please do, but don't make fun of me!! (I feel like a little fraidy cat!)

Thanks, Fly, for looking it over for me and giving me needed encouragement!

I was trying to work on another story that just refused me. And I thought I'd give this a try and then it just seemed to take off! Somewhere in there the military part of it just came into its own. I recalled from one of THX's stories where Bones recognizes Booth's strategy, and that it stems from his military training ... so I ran with it. Hope you don't mind me pilfering the title from your story, THX! And without further ado ... Booth is a Military Man at His Core.



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Booth couldn't shake this idea that he'd been obsessing over these last few weeks. He'd done all the regular things to extinguish it. It just wasn't going away. He'd been preoccupied with fantasies of Bones before and had always managed to at least shove them to the back of his mind. Sometimes they would kick and shout from back there, but if they weren't occupying the forefront of his mind he seemed to manage okay.

But this thought ... “Damn! How am I every going to get it to go away?” He was fresh out of ideas. Cold showers, hot showers, neither worked. Long workouts, particularly hard workouts, long runs, nothing wore him out enough to squelch this particular fantasy. He'd tried to indulge himself with it so he could play it out to the end, thinking that would make it evaporate in the daylight, vaporize in the dark of night. Nothing! He'd not “indulged” himself so frequently since he was a teenager! But nothing helped.

When he'd dreamed of Bones before he'd always wanted to make it perfect down to every last detail. But this scenario was a different kind of perfect. Almost an unnerving perfection. This wasn’t some Saturday night rendezvous, this was an only-happens-once something, because once you've had each other there’s no going back, no returning to the unknown. And that’s what this was, this fantasy that had him obsessed with his Bones.

It started as simply as could be. She’s over, they’re reviewing their case, and without any prelude or explanation he walks up to her, crouches down, placing his “shh” finger to her lips, not even making the noise used to express the gesture.

And when he confirms to himself that she's playing along, sans words, he takes her by the hand along with the blanket from the back of the couch and leads her out into the middle of the floor. He spreads the blanket without losing her eyes, and then escorts her to its center. Once there, he moves back far enough to ensure an unobstructed view of her entire form.

Standing there, motionless, Bones’ nerves start unraveling, knowing nothing of what's going on. She finally acts out a question like they’re playing charades, her brain trying desperately to understand. But Booth disregards her, not only not giving her any clues but not even acknowledging her plea. Her discomfort climbs. Her eyes darting all over him, her breasts heaving in her confusion.

Just as she's about to break this imposed silence, Booth slowly reaches down to the edge of his t-shirt, and staring into her eyes, starts to pull it up, being sure not to break eye contact. All the while he's moving it up, she's clamoring inside, unsure if she’s understanding. Finally, hoping that she comprehends his command, she grasps the hem of her blouse and mirrors his movement. When both shirts have been discarded on the floor they become entangled in each other’s gaze. Their bodies now starting to glisten. Booth stops, allowing himself to survey the wonder before him, as Brennan's anxiety begins to transform into a wildness that she neither understands, nor dislikes.

As Booth stands there it's more than obvious that his erection is complete, straining for release. Slowly his hand moves down, not alleviating his constriction, but encouraging it. In response Brennan slides her hand tentatively to the join of her thighs. All the while tormented with "What are you doing to me, Booth?" and knowing that her panties are already soaked in her own heat.

When he is satisfied that things are progressing as planned he reaches to unbutton and unzip, and again waits. She is trembling visibly now, but performs her next task as bidden. She wants to remove her pants, and he can tell she is trying to take the lead and signals the slightest of disapproval in his eyes, and she relents. Her penalty is an extended suspension in activity, which damn near causes her heart to knock its way through her chest. To her great disadvantage Booth is a man of discipline, a sniper accustomed to long periods of absolute stillness, spent contemplating his target. And she is the perfect target upon which to fix his gaze ... and so she waits. Lesson learned.

Finally, noticing her anticipation is taking her near the brink of her own collapse, Booth slides his hand into his waistband and begins dismantling his jeans. Brennan shudders in relief as she reaches to her own. Booth amuses himself when he removes his hand, then bends over to remove his shoes, knowing that she isn't aware that hers are still there too. She mimics his stance which gives him a clear shot of her cleavage, bosom still firmly ensconced in her bra. He tosses his shoes aside, while she sets hers aside neatly. As she looks up, she sees his dissatisfaction, she searches for what she has done wrong. As it dawns on her, she bends down and tosses her shoes over into a pile with his. Her mind races "God, Booth, please!" He isn't swayed in the least, for he has an objective, and like every other objective he's ever had, he'll meet this one too. Her. Just as he’s planned … after all, there’s a reason you strategize.

Now he reaches down and pulls off his pants, leaving them haphazardly halfway inside out. She just stares at him. She can't move. Her chest is aching and she can feel a trickle start down her leg. She feels as though she’ll start to cry. It isn't confusion, for she now understands the rules of engagement, but it’s that understanding that evokes so much emotion. She understands, but there’s no way she’d be able to put it into words, even her fancy $3 words. But Booth can, he knows exactly what’s going on. He’s thought this one through, planned it out to the most intimate detail. This is an exercise in trust. If she can follow him through this, she can follow him hereafter wherever he leads. And that is his intention, to make her his, always.

So he stands, her staring at him in all his glory, not flinching or flushing at all. He stands, motionless, until she complies with his next order. And her pants land on top of his, halfway turned out too.

Booth shows her some mercy, reaching up without hesitation and removing his boxers. She catches her breath. And when she finally reaches for her own, she starts to wipe herself, but his eyes flare and she freezes, tossing them where they belong, trickle left wholly in place, building momentum on its descent to her ankles. And there they stand, one in front of the other, her in her bra to his bare chest, both still in their socks.

Brennan's respiration is finally starting to slow, her breaths now fully twice as deep as usual. She can now take in his entire visage with no need of shifting her eyes or adjusting her focus, a development of which she is not even aware. But Booth observes her progress and is well pleased.

This objective met signals the next phase, so he squats onto his haunches. When he notices her following his lead he detains her with a simple glance. Eyes once more fixed upon her, he kneels down and finishes positioning himself, drawing his shins under his quads, flush on the floor. As he gazes upon her, he not only catches a hint of her bouquet, he also witnesses another drop escape.

As one hand takes hold of the erection that she has brought on him, he extends his other to her as if wishing to lead her onto the dance floor. She takes hold and follows his lead. She steps forward and straddles his knees. She almost cries aloud as his face closes in on her, painfully close to her center. She can see his chest rise and fall as she stands there, tentatively at parade rest, but actually she’s piqued at full attention. Finally she feels a slight tug at her fingers, and her breath disappears from her chest. He is guiding her down, onto him. Her mind is screaming, "Silence, Temperance. Please be silent!" and when she is fully arrived her breath returns in a racing, shallow pant. She cannot help but turn her head and close her eyes. She can feel his breath at her clavicle, slow and measured. There is no movement, no rocking, no anything. Her body aches now for his attention, for some motion, for him to bless her with some divine intervention. This is truly torture. And still his breath is the only sensation to be had. Finally she opens her eyes and turns to him. She wants him but he doesn't seem to even understand what want is. Again her mind screams but this time it’s screaming at him, "What do you want of me, Seeley?"


(cont'd in the next post)

(cont'd from the previous post)



As if hearing her every thought, he gives her an indication that he is considering her. He takes her eyes in his and tilts his head ever so slightly, concerned for her well-being in this trial he's putting her through. She's all but ready to buck rank and attack him, mouth, chest, arms, knock him over, rape him if she must, but have her way! Willed by his intention alone he calms her treasonous passions, her emotion still wild but her resolve once again back under his control.

He reaches down for her hands and places them at his hips. She shifts her weight ever so slightly but he doesn't correct her on this minor infraction, he even determines that he should walk her feet forward just slightly. With her limbs fully in position, he reaches down and places one hand at the small of her back where it is always captivated, then places the other fully behind her bottom, noticing that her heat is so great that it’s even managing to climb her crevice.

As they quiet themselves on each other, they are acutely aware that they are both contemplating the adventure on which they are about to embark. And at the fullness of that moment Seeley starts in with the slightest rock of his hips. Temperance somehow manages not to pass out from this ecstasy he's bestowing on her, but not without requiring him to snatch her away from her collapse. One hand now planted firmly on her upper back, the other unmoved from its established post, he shifts some of his weight onto his knees. She falls into the cradle of his neck and shoulder, bringing her hands up to embrace his head and shoulders, her legs circling his waist. They begin rocking into each other, ever so softly. Silence having been an established part of this exercise, the only sound either of them makes is their labored breathing, and even that they’re trying to silence. Their rhythm remains gentle.

Needing his mouth to join in, he unhooks her bra, removing the straps from her silken shoulders, tossing it in the heap. Leaning in to her cautiously, nipping from the underside, traveling up to plant his mouth softly around the fullness of her aureole, she shatters. His light touch intensifies as his tongue, teeth and lips fight for domination. He retreats only to blow a light kiss where his mouth has been, which hardens her all the more. He probes once more, then immediately moves his assault to the neglected breast. His mouth is now seeking to dominate the rhythm, and he fights to gather his thoughts. “So Seeley, you gonna wrap up this mission post haste or you gonna go the distance? Decide. Now Seeley, decide now!” and he pulls himself fully onto his knees, back straight, and brings her face into view, raking her hair back from her eyes. Pacified once again, his soul starts to stir in her eyes, and now she begins to cry as she abandons herself in him.

Gently cradling her, he brings her down to the floor, slipping from her. She clutches his shoulders, and he shelters himself at her side, pulling her face to him, suckling her mouth with his own. As he realizes that this really isn’t slowing anything down, he pulls back to simply gaze upon her. She starts to speak and once again he touches her lips to quiet her. Her eyes widen, and in her need she reaches for him, to caress that which she so desperately wants. A slow smile starts on his countenance, yet even still he removes her hand and places it, with his own, at her core. He begins guiding her fingers through this patch of dew, and a deep blush blossoms in her cheeks. Slowly, even timidly she takes the lead, confessing her secrets to him. Moved by her honesty and her trust he closes his mouth in a kiss on her forehead. And again she comes apart in his hands.

Now! Now he needs to taste her! He’s held off longer than he’d have thought possible. There are no lingering kisses trailing down her body. He simply raises, repositions himself at her core, thrusting her ankles apart, pulling her knees up and spreading them to gain access.

“Oh God!” He isn’t sure if she’s heard him, but he knows that these words actually did escape his lips. “I need this, oh how I need this!” he begins chanting silently. As he begins her sweet torture, he locks his eyes in her gaze. She is pleading with him, and finally he descends on her. He recognizes her scent as that of sweet basil, and he knows that he will forever be tormented by this most regal of herbs. All that remains now is to drink, and he starts lapping at her precious spring. She bucks at his contact, and he restrains her with both hands wrapped where her thighs join her frame, and yet she still manages to shift herself to grant him excellent access. His silent voice is now practically carrying on a conversation with her sex. “That’s my girl, Bones. Come to me. Give yourself up to me. Tear through all those walls. Let me in. Let me crawl right up inside your skin and bones.” Once she has melted into his mouth again, he is finally fortified.

Again he repositions, knees closing in, body looming over her, and he stills himself, encouraging her to climb on. She can’t help but to take hold, doing her part to ensure a successful launch. And they take off! Seeley doesn’t understand how he transferred from Army to NASA, but he’s sure they’re both orbiting earth somewhere in the heavens. And as much as they want to make a few trips around the Milky Way that isn’t what fate has written in their stars. And he comes, somewhere around the Big Dipper, taking her down with him all the way!

Even in the midst of his own fantasy he can tell that he’s starting to really let things get out of hand. He’s even starting to laugh at his own analogies. A knock at the door pulls him a little further out of his thoughts.

“What? Who’s there?” No answer. Then he realizes he’s still stuck in his head and that he hasn’t spoken anything aloud yet. Again he tries “Who’s there?” finally managing to give voice to his words.

“It’s me! Bones! Are you okay in there? I’ve been knocking a while. I was about ready to tear the door down!” just as he whips the door open, averting his eyes so she has less chance to read his thoughts. “What’s wrong, Booth? Why didn’t you answer the door?”

“Oh, was in the other room and just didn’t hear you.” he says, all the while hoping she buys it. Luckily she’s in pretty good spirits and doesn’t push it any further. “So Booth, I was kind of hoping we could knock up some work tonight. Are you in for it?”

“Knock ‘out’ some work, Bones, knock ‘out’. And sure, I’m ‘up’ for it. We can make a go of it for a while. Like a cup of coffee?” as he tries to extract himself from her by heading to the kitchen.

“Okay. A cup of coffee and I’m sure I could go at it all night.”

“Ugh! Damn woman! Watch what you’re saying!” are the screams he hears crying in his head.

As he hands her the coffee he tries to start some small talk, to get his mind off of what he’s just been occupying it with. She looks up at him with a bit of a smirk on her face. “Booth, I know I came over to work, but I’m not really in the mood for chit-chat, okay. I just don’t much feel like talking tonight.”

His imagination ignites! “What did she just say to you, Booth? Did you hear what she just said?” He rattles his head trying to shake the thoughts that are scrambling his brains. Try as he may, it’s no use. She may as well have just handed him his mission orders!

With a renewed sense of purpose, he collects himself, walks over, picks up her coffee, downs the last of it noticing her shoes still on her feet. He walks into the kitchen, puts down the cup, walks over to his sneakers and bends over, approving his green and purple polka dot socks, slips on his shoes and ties them.

Then without any prelude or explanation he walks up to her, crouches down, putting his “shh” finger to her lips, not even making the noise used to express the gesture.

And when he confirms to himself that she's playing along …



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Okay, what do you think? Remember to be nice!

Oh well......I don't really know what to say......it was....well different from almost everything I ever read before.....not ín a bad way though, Sherry, don't worry!
It's kinda hard to describe.
I liked it, although I would have liked some talking.....maybe it would have ruined the modd, though......so no talking then.....but I always like Booth talking to her during sex......
But the way 'it' happened for the first time, was nice, in a strange way.....
oh you know what.....I liked it, okay.....I can't really put it into words....
maybe I'll try again tomorrow.....

Wow Sherry, for a first time smut piece that's actually quite good. Single voice narratives are a lot harder to write than most folks realize and you did admirably. Even when perspective shifted within the fantasy the narrative itself wasn't compromised which was excellent. I found the concept behind it both intriguing and entertaining, and the smut was well done, so you've nothing to worry about there. Of course the end was possibly the best part of the whole thing, art immitating life as it were. Too funny that.

RM

For some reason I'm feeling like a proud papa right now!

Yay! I'm happy now - two nice reviews! I've been practically hyperventilating since I posted this today at lunch. Thank you!!

ToZ, from what you wrote I thought "Well, I guess it is kind of kinky." When I was writing it it didn't really feel that way, but now that I think about it I guess it is kinda! Who knew??

Robert, Proud Papa ... I guess that's about right! I wonder if that makes blc a Grandma?? Even with the story being a diversion from the normal B/B, I did like how the ending kind of brought back some of the dynamic duo that we all love to love!

Thanks again you two. Now I can go back to a bit more normal respiration.

Breathe in and hold it...hold it...just a little longer...and relax. You did good kid, just hope you saved some of that nervous energy for the next chapter. What? I know you were calling this a one-shot but hey, the way you ended it it's perfect for a follow up, maybe a nice pwp piece!

RM

Why? Because enquiring minds want to read about the hookup, in detail, complete with honey mustard and relish (because chocolate sauce is so passe).

Yay! You posted this! Great job, Sherry...I loved it! Though you already knew that...lol. Keep writing, sweetie...

Honey mustard and relish sounds kinda nasty! Yuck! One or the other maybe, but as a combination -

Thanks for the breathing exercise, but I wouldn't go holding my breath if I were you (har har har!), waiting for anymore smut to pass through these digits. I don't even know where that one came from!

... and all that jumping up and down your smilies are doing is just making them work up a sweat ...

flyersfan35 wrote:Yay! You posted this! Great job, Sherry...I loved it! Though you already knew that...lol. Keep writing, sweetie...

Oh Fly, I almost missed your post. You must have been posting when I was posting and then I didn't see it!

Thank you! And thank you for your encouragement too - couldn't have done it without ya!

Great idea that was well written. The no-talking thing can be hard to pull off sometimes, but you did awesome with it.

Thanks, Snoop! I'm glad you liked it.

I like your new sig too! Nobody helped him with a towel, and now he's just gonna sit there and sulk a while. (And look at those arms ... he must have needed a bath because he just got back from a workout!)