Alternate ending for 6x9. M for a very, very good reason. ;)

I'm working on something long and super angsty and needed a break. This is slightly angsty but gets to the good stuff fast, don't worry!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the TV series Bones. It is owned by Fox and Hansen. No infringement intended.

She closed the door of her apartment with shaking hands. Leaning back against the door, she heaved a long, drawn out sigh, her face wrenched in a grimace of mingled pain and sadness. She opened her eyes and looked around her empty, almost clinically spotless apartment. A single dry sob, which was half hysterical laugh, escaped her. But no tears fell.

Numbness washed over her and she removed her coat, throwing it over the back of a chair.

She couldn't believe what she had just done. She shook her head, almost laughing at herself. She had been half hysterical with sleep deprivation and the adrenaline rush that had spurred her hopes. Now she was drained and cold. She needed warmth and some kind of oblivion.

She went into the bathroom and looked at her clammy face in the mirror. She looked like… herself. She was still herself. Still here. She didn't know if that was good or bad. Unable to face herself anymore, she went to the tub and turned on the tap. Maybe a hot bath would help. While the tub filled she removed her streaked mascara and scrubbed her face until it brought some color back to her cheeks. Now she looked clean and more peaceful.

She stripped the damp clothes from her body and was about to step into the tub. Then she heard the knock at her door.

He watched her as she walked into her apartment building, her head almost hanging. His shaking hands betrayed a calm exterior. Closing his eyes, he tried to sift his thoughts but couldn't. One concept kept intruding, a trump on all other claims: Bones wanted him.

He had told her no, but now that she was out of his sight, he couldn't remember why. This is Bones, his heart pounded. Bones and her sharp mind; her iron will; her order and reason. She wanted him. Bones and her gentle spirit; her kind heart; her endless loyalty. Her smooth skin, her full and luscious hips; her sweet, sweet mouth. Her crushed heart in his hand. He couldn't deny her, not for long. She wanted what was already hers.

Brennan heard the pounding at her door. Who could that be? she thought. She slipped on a short silky robe that was hanging in the bathroom and went out to the door. She looked through the hole, then opened the door.

"Booth, wha-," she started. She was stopped by the look on his face as he pushed open the door and stepped into her apartment. She moved back, instinctively, staring at him. His face was a mixture of anger, sadness, and above all else, raging desire. There was something determined in his look. His dark eyes took in her face and her robed body, never leaving her, as he shut the door behind him and took another slow step toward her. Intense heat seemed to radiate from him. She thought it might burn her until she felt the same heat rising inside her. She knew immediately what he was going to do.

He closed the gap between. Then, in a single fluid movement, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her tight against him, tilted her head back, buried his other hand in her hair, and kissed her. She gasped as his mouth closed over hers, her mouth open. She closed her eyes and kissed him back, hot and hungry. Her mind reeled with incoherent thoughts, clouded with the sudden notion that she wanted to touch his bare skin. Sliding her hands up his arms, she reached the collar of his open trench coat and quickly pulled it down. Releasing her, he pulled his arms from the sleeves and let the coat drop to the floor before grabbing her again and pulling her close to him with both arms. Their kissing grew frantic and, as he began to place hot, wet kisses on her neck, she moaned involuntarily. It was a small, quiet moan of pleasure, but he took it as license. Breaking the kiss, he grabbed her hand and led her quickly and silently to her bedroom, which was lit only by the streetlights outside the windows.

He stopped beside the bed and turned to her. Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her again. He toed off his shoes and moved his mouth once more to her throat, the pace becoming frantic once more. She quickly untied his tie and pulled it over his head.

She undid the buttons on his white starched shirt and he helped her push it off his shoulders. She ran her hands down his smooth, muscular chest and down, down, until she reached… his cocky belt buckle. She whipped the belt open, then quickly undid the button and zipper, tugging his slacks off, leaving him entirely naked. He reached between them and untied the sash of her robe, exposing all her soft, creamy skin. He ripped the silky robe off her arms and, grabbing her around the waist, lowered her roughly onto the bed, covering her body with his. He kissed from her neck down her chest. Then, shifting his weight to one side, he kissed the tops of her breasts, cupping them in his rough hand.

Coherent thought had left her mind. All she wanted was him, him, him. More, even more. She wanted finality. She wanted Booth to fuck her.

Bringing his face to hers, she kissed him deeply, opened her legs and urged him to go where she needed him. He did not hesitate. Poised at her entrance, he pressed himself into her, his long length sliding into a hot, wet, exquisite sheath. Here, his mind told him, was where his life had been leading him all along. This moment.

He paused for only a second before sliding back out, and quickly plunging back in, the sensation of searing heat and blinding sparks radiating through his body, centered on the place where they met. He started a steady rhythm, stroking in and out, each movement sending intense pleasure through him, the pace of his hips, matching the pace of his tongue inside her mouth. A small whimper and the roll of her hips brought him back to her. He broke their kiss and looked at her face.

Her eyes were shut tight, a grimace tightening her features. For a moment she looked almost in pain. Then an undeniable moan of pleasure parted her lips. He thrust into her again and again, deeper each time, watching her moan each breath. Soon the sensations overwhelmed and he simply put his head down and pounded into her over and over again. Close to his end, he reached between them and rubbed over her sensitive clitoris, shooting sparks of pleasure through her until they coalesced into one. A few more strokes and he reached the end as well

His whole body shaking, he rolled to the side and lay on his back beside her in her bed. Not a word passed between them. Brennan, who had not slept in several days, fell immediately asleep. Booth, too, had drifted away.

Several hours later, Booth woke, the slow realization dawning on him, of what had happened. Brennan, awake by his side, waited nervously to see how he would react. Would he immediately regret his indiscretion? The fact that he had lost control, given in to a long-suppressed impulse? She wanted to prolong this delicious moment of blissful ignorance as long as could be, but soon, she felt him stir. She turned to face him, resting her head on the pillow.

He looked at her, and smiled.