A Very Bad Idea

By: dharmamonkey & Lesera128
Rated: M
Disclaimer: Ummm, nope, we still don't own anything. We have, however, apparently become squatters in the sandbox that we crashed... so, umm... yeah. There we go.

A/N: Here is the sixth and final installment of this, our eighth "Very Bad Idea" scenario. This one was a bit of an experiment, and, all in all, we think it turned out well. Seems that a lot of readers thought so, too. How well did it turn out for our heroes? Oh...well, wouldn't you like to find out? Of course you would. Alright, enough senseless teasing. It's showtime!

UNF ALERT: Right. Last chapter of a VBI scenario. You folks probably have this figured out by now. Unfness of the very best, most satisfying kind always shows up in the last chapter of a VBI scenario; this is the last chapter of a VBI scenario, therefore, satisfying unfness follows. So, if you're not into reading about adults engaged in adult activities with other adults, or shouldn't be, better move along now. If you want that sort of thing, read on, dear friends, read on.

VIII. He Said, She Said, Part VI

Pertinent Details on Scenario #8: Set during the beginning of episode 5x01: "Harbingers in the Fountain."

Once I'd made my decision, I reached around and, putting my hands on her hips, gently pulled her towards me. As I'd expected, she didn't hesitate, and as our eyes met, she moved to close the last couple of inches between us and straddled my thighs.

It's funny, actually, but the first thing I noticed when she did that—even though there were a million neurons lighting off, only a very few of them were actually in my skull—was the way the warm skin of her inner thighs felt against the outside of my thighs. Her skin was so soft, silky and buttery and warm, just perfect really, and so feminine, and the contrast of it with my legs with all the rough hair and everything—well, I don't know why it struck me like that, but it did. For a few moments, I just sort of soaked in the sensation of it, and then my brain, or part of it, clicked on again, and I realized that I had her, all of her, in all of her delicious, magnificent glory, perched over me, ready and willing and close enough to touch.

And so I did.

I squeezed her hips, reveling in the way the soft, springy flesh felt under my fingertips as she sighed, looking down at me with dark, twinkling blue-green eyes the color of a stormy ocean surf. I let go, brought my hands around to caress the top of her ass, marveling at how incredibly soft and smooth her skin was. She leaned forward with a grin, and her breasts swayed above me, and suddenly the curve of her ass seemed a little less interesting to me in that moment. My hands migrated up from her ass to her tits as if I was a man possessed—well, I suppose I was, really—and however hard I was in that moment, the second my palms made contact with the delicious roundness of her breasts, I was sure I had just hardened into friggin' tungsten carbide. I squeezed them gently, my eyes darting from those beautiful breasts—with those rosy, pebbled, pert nipples that felt absolutely incredible when I swiped my thumbs over them—and up to her eyes, which were darker than I'd ever seen 'em before (a couple of shades darker than they were even when she was lapping my come off my stomach a few minutes earlier) and held my gaze for several seconds, then her eyelids seemed almost to thicken before they closed and her mouth fell open in a sigh.

"God, Bones," I breathed as I raised my head a little and met one of her nipples with my mouth as she leaned in and covered me with her sumptuous body.

"Ohhh..." she sighed in a moan that was music to my ears. "Booothh."

I closed my lips around her nipple for a moment but then quickly released it. A short, frustrated breath escaped from Bones' lips, and I couldn't help but smile. She was so turned on—hell, so was I—and so fucking keyed up, her natural impatience was breaking through.

Well, hey, who was I to argue?

I reached up again with one hand and gave that beautiful breast a soft squeeze as I let my tongue circle over the other nipple. I could taste her, her sweet sweat, as I laved my tongue around that dusky, tight flesh, and I gave her a few turns before I couldn't stand it anymore and took her whole nipple in my mouth, giving it a good stiff suck.

The only thing that drove me wilder in that moment than the way her sweaty skin tasted or the way her taut nipples felt against my tongue was the sounds that she made as I sucked on her tits. But you know, I'm a fair-minded guy, and after worshiping her right tit with my mouth until that dusky rose nipple had darkened, I just had to give that other beautiful breast its fair share of my adoration. And so that's exactly what I started to do, and it was awesome.

So fucking awesome.

Heh.

One might think that I'm actually the type of sexual partner that, given my self-confidence and lack of any unease about such matters, that I might be the type of person that's unusually loud when I engage in sexual behavior. Believe it or not, but I'm not actually very verbal when it comes to sex. It's actually one time in my life when I purposely try to think just a little bit less than I do on any other occasion and react a bit more instinctively. I've found that I tend to enjoy myself more in such situations, and I also find my release to be stronger when I'm more relaxed and not overthinking things. So, while I quite often will toss out the occasional word of appropriate response when I'm engaging with foreplay—and, I actually rarely remember what I said when I'm building towards my orgasm since I, as I said, try not to overthink things—I'm more likely to make unintelligible sounds like sighs, grunts, and moans of pleasure.

As Booth continued to touch me, the small part of my brain that was still somehow engaged discovered a delicious nugget of information that metaphorically tickled me. Apparently, Booth loves it when he's having sex with a woman if she's just vocal enough that he can tell she's making sounds—sighs, grunts, and moans of pleasure—because of whatever he's doing to her, or in this particular case, me, in that moment.

I never doubted that he'd be a talented lover. I also never doubted that, setting aside our intense physical attraction to one another, we'd be very compatible as sexual partners. What did surprise me is how inventive he could be when he had a mind to see what other types of sounds he could elicit from me.

It had started out simply enough.

Once I realized that there was no good reason not to give him what he wanted if what—or, who, as the more accurate descriptor had turned out to be—he wanted, all that was left for me to let him know that I felt the same way about him as he apparently felt about me. And, now, we could act on it.

He'd reached out fairly quickly after I'd asked him what we were waiting for and then started to kiss me as he grabbed my ass.

It felt...well, it felt fucking great.

But, then, as was to be expected, he quickly focused on my breasts. Now, I've long suspected that my breasts held a certain fascination for Booth, and I wasn't disappointed when he moved his mouth to one of my nipples. At some point, the small rational part that had been engaged up until that moment seemed to disengage, because I don't remember a lot of what happened once he started sucking on my nipple, and I started to writhe under his touch.

The next thing that I do remember is that at some point he seemed to want to see how creative he could be when he continued to focus his attention on my breasts with his mouth while he moved one of his hands from the swell of my hip where it had been resting, coasted his palmed across my pubic bone, and then dip low to the wetness of my slick folds.

I was already so close to coming given how turned on I'd been by watching him work himself over, when combined with the time I'd spent touching myself, he barely had enough time to part my slit, gather a profuse amount of my glistening fluids on his fingers, and then just rubbed my swollen clit a few times, I coasted to what was a rather pleasant and toe-curling orgasm.

My body convulsed in a slight way, and as it did so, I could hear my heartbeat roaring in my ears at the same time I saw Booth lift his head from where he'd been sucking on my tit, and then let it fall away from his mouth in mild surprise. He arched one eyebrow at me in question, as if he really needed me to confirm to him the answer to his unspoken question.

But, what the fuck?

He's a male, and males do need constant affirmation of their skills and virility.

So, as I collapsed lightly against him, I sighed in contentment as I murmured a response to his unasked question, "Yes, I did. Are you happy about that? Because I certainly know I am."

I'm not really sure what I expected, actually.

I mean, I know she was pretty worked up, after watching me get off, then working herself over for a bit before I kind of derailed her train there—oops, sorry, Bones—and then she straddled me and leaned over to let me do a short worship service in honor of her epically amazing and, dare I say, delicious-tasting tits. I was halfway out of my mind with the way her nipples felt on my tongue and between my lips, but when I reached down between her legs so I could give her the full stereo experience, I knew she'd get there. I just didn't think she'd get there that quick. While I wouldn't call Bones a control freak—well, actually, who am I kidding? of course, I would. She's a total typical Type A personality control freak—she's definitely a woman who likes things...hmmm...well-ordered and running on a schedule, with everything in its proper place. She's not really a 'let go and let it all hang out' kind of person.

Except, apparently that is, in bed.

I should've figured, really, had I taken a moment to think about it. After all, she'd scratched the shit out of my back and went aggro enough on the grab ass grabbykins during the forever-shrouded-in-drunken-mystery-fuck the night before that she'd left bruises. That's not exactly a hallmark of a woman in control, and I was coming to realize just how grateful I was for that fact.

In any case, I was still a bit surprised how quickly she went that first time. Delighted as all fuck, sure, but still pretty fucking surprised. I mean, I wasn't just delighted because she came, although I was happy about that. I wanted her to feel good. Hell, not good—I wanted to make her feel great. I wanted to set off an Oppenheimer-quality nuclear chain reaction in that genius brain of hers that I loved so goddamn much and hurtle her into a full-on melt-down sequence that neither of us would ever forget. And seeing her come that quickly, with not a tremendous lot of effort on my end, was a very auspicious beginning to that process. Never mind the fact that I was nearly out of my own mind with want and so hard it damn near hurt.

I reached up with one hand and gave her other breast a gentle squeeze, then brought both of my hands down to her hip and, nudging her a little by raising my chin since she'd kind of collapsed on top of me after that nice little orgasm of hers, raised her up off of me enough that I could line myself up under her. Bones hovered there over me, her mouth hanging open a little as she coasted down from her high and her breathing settled into a normal rhythm again, and our eyes locked together, each of us staring into the other's eyes for several long moments—a minute, maybe, I'm not sure. I knew by the way those pale eyes of hers had darkened, and the way they blazed and flickered back at me, that she was more than ready. I held myself there in a loose grip, hard and ready, waiting for her to give me the sign, some kind of signal she was ready for this.

She blinked at me, and then, narrowing her eyes slightly, tilted her head a little and covered my mouth with her demanding kiss, her tongue sliding into my mouth and twirling against my own, in the very same moment that she lowered herself onto me, swallowing me up in all her silky amazing glory. Her lips mashed against mine, each of our mouths grasping at the other in a hungry kiss, and all I could utter was a quiet, half-swallowed moan as I felt her begin to move on top of me.

She felt amazing. I wish I had a better word than that, but...

Oh, my God...

Being inside of her, and feeling her warm, slippery wet body totally envelop me, opening up for me with each downward stroke she made as she rocked her hips back and forth, closing around me with a tightness that made my eyes roll back into my head and my breath catch in my throat at the incredible feel of it—it's hard to put into words the way it felt being inside of her for the first time.

Except, of course, it actually wasn't the first time.

But it was the first time in the sense it was the first one that either of us remembered. So, look, as far as I was concerned, I'd decided that this was our first time. And what a super awesome fucking first time it was.

I slid my hands around the curve of her hips, stroking my fingers over that wonderful place on the small of her back I loved so much before palming the round, soft cheeks of her ass. I held back for a minute as she settled into a rhythm, rolling those hips of hers back and forth, but as soon as it seemed she was in a groove, I began to move, too, thrusting my hips up to meet each one of her strokes and send myself as deep into her hot, wet, tight pussy as I could.

Oh God...

I was inside of her.

Wow. Just...wow.

I think it was the most amazing thing I'd ever felt in my life. Each time she moved, and took me all the way inside of her, I felt her muscles tense and close up around me, tightening the already mind-numbingly tight little sheath around me. It was everything I could do in the first couple of minutes to not come right then, each time she tightened around me.

"Oh, my God, Bones," I sighed aloud. "You feel so fucking good...oh, God..."

It's a miracle I could even speak, really, with the way she felt and how she was making me feel.

The sensation of her enveloping me was so fucking amazing, absolutely incredible, unbelievably awesome. But what blew my mind even more was to see her face: the way her eyes looked, almost but not quite closed, the way the muscles of her face slackened and the creases in her forehead relaxed away, and the way her mouth gaped open a little, just enough to let her voice those breathy little sighs and slowly-peaking moans that made me just a little bit harder when I heard them.

And God, I loved the noises she made.

I'd be lying if I said it was the best part, but holy fucking shit, I'd be lying if I told you it wasn't the next best thing. In those minutes, as she rode me and those wonderful, totally unintelligible breathy sounds passed from her lips each time I bottomed out inside of her, I knew I would do whatever I could to hear those sounds every damn day for the rest of my life. Each time I heard the little sequence of sounds—a quiet, barely audible sigh as she stroked back and away, then a long, low moan punctuated by a soft grunt as she rocked forward again and I surged back inside of her, pressing up and into her as deeply as I could from below—I felt myself rumbling along the track, picking up speed as I rolled faster and faster towards oblivion.

I knew if I didn't do something to shift the balance here, she was going to unravel me before I wanted to go. I wanted her to come again—at least one more time, if not twice—before I was gonna let myself go. But with her riding me like that, maintaining the pace like that, I didn't have a chance at lasting, even though I'd have thought coming before would've taken the edge off. So, in any case, I took matters into my own hands.

Was that a little alpha male of me?

Yeah. Probably.

But did I care?

Nope, not if it meant holding onto my self-control for another few minutes while I let the Booth train stop at a couple of stations—stops number two and three for her—before pulling into our final destination, which I was pretty sure was gonna be the end of the line for me, at least for a while. So I brought one of my hands up from her ass—damn, she has a fucking exquisite ass—and cupped the delicate edge of her square jaw. I pulled her in for another kiss, closing my mouth over her parted lips and cutting off the long moan as she stroked over me. She fell into my kiss, and a wave of aggression surged through me as I plundered her sweet mouth, curling my tongue around the tip of hers as I savored the warm, vaguely spicy taste of her, letting her pull away for a moment to take a breath before pulling her back again. I felt her slender fingers on my jaw, toying with the week's worth of scruff on my face, as she kissed me back with equal passion as I'd just kissed her.

Damn, she was a good kisser. Great, really. I mean I did know that, but even still.

I broke our kiss, grinning as she gently scraped my beard with the tips of her nails. I opened my mouth to apologize for not having shaved the day before, but as she began to move her hips again, I knew I needed to move or she was gonna un-do me before either of us was ready.

I dropped my hands back down to her hips, and the moment she rocked forward to take me all the way in again, I met her stroke, hard, but with a sideways motion that fractured her focus and knocked her off balance, and that was when I rolled her over onto her back with a deep, admittedly caveman-like grunt.

A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do, right?

I let him roll me over. I suppose I let him do it for two reasons. First, it wasn't like I couldn't roll us over again if I didn't like the way this position allowed him to penetrate me. Second, I guess I have to admit that I was feeling decidedly and deliciously feminine because of my earlier orgasm and the intense feeling of finally having him inside me. It was a warm and wonderful feeling of being filled up by him that was topped only by the mind-scattering effects the friction I felt when he slid in and out of me had on my mental state. So, it was a small thing to concede to him the ability to position us in the way he wished.

Booth continued to stroke into me a few times, and I could tell as he tried to set a rhythm to his pace that he was controlling himself for some reason I wasn't quite certain about. My scattered brain, distracted as it was, still managed to wonder why he was deciding to be such a control freak...especially now that we'd finally cleared the metaphorical air between us. As he moved over me, I saw the tense muscles in his jaw tighten as he gritted his teeth and beads of sweat had collected on his brow. Tilting my head, I blinked several times through a heavy lidded gaze as I waited to catch his eyes. However, again, for some reason, even mid-coitus, Booth seemed to have developed some obsessive fixation with my tits. When he wasn't touching them, he had them in his mouth. When they weren't in his mouth, he was ogling them with his eyes. Now, at the particular moment, as he balanced his weight on both of his strong forearms over me, I saw him not only ogling on them, but he seemed riveted by the sight of my breasts jiggling each time as I took a deep breath, moving my chest, or when he stroked up into me and caused my back to arch in response.

It was rather funny from a certain perspective.

Special Agent Seeley Booth could apparently be undone by the right pair of tits, i.e., my tits.

Maybe I was wrong when I said I didn't possess magical powers over human beings just because I had a set of mammary glands. I mean, it's not like I'm a witch or anything—either Wiccan or a practitioner of would-be supernatural forces. But, apparently, with the way that Booth was fixated on them, I guess I was wrong, and my breasts did have some certain superpowers after all.

Chuckling, I licked my lips, and then began to get frustrated after a minute when he still refused to lift his eyes a mere twelve inches higher than the twin spots where they'd looked as he continued to thrust into me.

Growling, I didn't want to stop us all together, but I knew I needed to get his attention somehow. That was when I slowly wrapped my arms around his waist, I saw his lips curl into a smile, and then I moved my hands down from his bony hips to the taut muscles of his ass. Before he knew what I was doing, I firmly squeezed in what seemed to be a very grabbable spot with each hand—which was promptly followed by Booth yelping like a little girl as a flash of pain contorted his face.

"Bones!"

He lost his concentration and collapsed on top of me—not in the good way, either—with a grunt, knocking the air out of both of us in the process.

Of course, I don't know why I was surprised when that happened. I mean, this was Booth we're talking about here. It's not like anything with him could ever be easy, right?

Even fucking, it appeared.

Wow.

I'd just started to get myself into a really sweet groove, driving into her, not too fast but not too slow, and I'd just about found a nice rhythm, too.

Man, she felt great—wet, warm and so damn tight I couldn't freakin' believe it—and I have to admit, it wasn't just the way she felt on the inside, but also the way the silky skin of her inner thighs felt against my skin as I moved in between her legs—yes, it was even more awesome as time went on then it had been at the start of all of this, and I'd thought it was pretty fucking awesome then, so that should say something—and the humming sound that came from her throat amid all those delicious, breathy sighs. Then she made this grunting sound that was really sexy—no, really, it was—and reached her hands around my waist, and I kind of tucked my chin down against my chest and started to drive a little harder, rolling my hips back and forth so I can put my weight in just the right place. I felt a bead of sweat dribble down the side of my face as I kept moving, every one of my senses filling with the experience of her: the feel of her, the sounds she made, the way she smelled, and the sight of those absolutely amazing tits of hers, rolling back and forth on her chest with each one of my strokes. It was just awesome.

I was basking in the experience of finally being with her—making love to her—when, all of a sudden, those wonderful fingers of hers slithered around to my backside and grabbed ahold of my ass in a viselike grip.

And it hurt like a goddamn motherfucker.

I mean, seriously. It really, really hurt.

"Bones!" I cried out, my arms giving out on me a little as the wonderful rhythm I'd managed to work out came to a screeching halt. It was like jerking the needle off an LP in the middle of the soaring guitar solo halfway through the best damn song on the record. I collapsed a little from where I'd been holding myself up over her, and I heard her gasp as I crushed her under me. Luckily, knocking the wind out of her a bit seemed to shock her enough that she loosened her grip on my already-bruised ass-flesh.

"Ouch!" I squeaked as I caught my breath and propped myself up again. "Be careful, baby," I said, twisting my hips a little as I tried to shake off the residual sting of her latest round of grab-ass but trying to keep myself inside of her at the same time.

"What's the problem, Booth?" she asked, a teasing edge to her voice.

I took a breath. "Those scratches," I said. "You know, the ones on my back? Well, that's not the only marks you left on me last night, Bones."

She arched an eyebrow and gave me a strange look as she let her hands fall back to the outside of my hips. "What are you talking about?" she asked me.

I leaned my head back and sighed, then looked down at her again with a sheepish grin. "I don't know what the hell we did last night, baby," I said with a shrug, "but it must've been something insane, because not only did you work quite a little number on my back with those nails of yours, but you really went and did a squeeze-the-Charmin bit on my ass." The blank, nonplussed look on her face left no doubt in my mind that she had no idea who Mr. Whipple was or why he'd be admonishing shoppers not to squeeze the rolls of TP in the store. "Ummm," I continued. "What I'm saying is, Bones, I've got a nice set of black and blue marks on my ass shaped just like your fingerprints. It's okay, but—you know, just take it easy on the grabbykins, okay?"

I raised my eyebrows and waited a few seconds before I started to move again.

I failed to see how I could be chastised for what I'd done (or not done) as the case may've been last night since I didn't remember any of it. However, that's exactly what Booth did when he informed me that in addition to marking his back with my nails, I'd apparently inflicted a series of bruises on his rear posterior, leaving my fingerprints on the various groupings of his gluteal muscles.

Okay, I was supposed to know this information how exactly? It's not like (a) I could remember doing it or (b) I could obtain the information this morning since Booth hadn't exactly let me have a hands-on examination of his well-developed ass.

I was tempted to sulk a bit at what I knew logically he'd intended as nothing but a gentle chastisement for practical considerations. However, I was still irked by his mild reproach. I mean, had I said anything to him? It's not like I was castigating him for the skin irritation that I knew I had received (now, at least) as a result of the fact that since he hadn't shaved in some time, his stubble had affected the skin around my neck, chest, and inner thighs. Did I say anything about that? No, but I began to think maybe I should.

Then, there was also that irksome detail that he'd referred to me as 'baby'—and he'd done it twice in less than two minutes. That was an inauspicious sign as far as I was concerned, particularly since I didn't like him doing it. Not only does it infantilize me, but it reminds me of a damn Patsy Cline song that my dad used to love playing on end, looping the record when I was growing up.

He called me baby, baby, all night long
Built me up so high, and made me strong
Now each night, in dreams, just like a song
I still hear baby, baby
Still hear baby, baby
Still hear baby, baby, all night long

That damn song always gets stuck in my head every time that I hear someone call someone else 'baby'. So, it only seemed natural that I would resist Booth's attempt to apply such a term of endearment to me when we were in such intimate proximity to one another.

I was about to open my mouth to make such sentiments known when Booth flashed me that toothy grin of his and lowered his gaze back to my chest when he started to move again.

That was what did it.

Wrapping my left leg around his waist, paying enough attention that I placed it high enough so that I knew I was avoiding his bruised gluteal muscle groupings, I leveraged what momentum I could to roll us over once more. I heard Booth grunt as he suddenly found himself on his back once more. As I rose up over him, I reached for both his hands and intertwined my fingers with his. Squeezing them, I waited until his eyes had finally lifted to meet mine.

Nodding at him, I said softly, "Eyes up here, Booth."

"Huh?"

"I said," I told him, grinding my pelvis so that I was able to elicit a very pleasing groan from him, "if either one of us is close to coming as I believe we are, I would appreciate it...if you'd stop looking at my tits for five seconds and really look...at...me, okay? I'm more than my tits."

Booth blinked at me for several seconds and then repeated, "Huh?"

I grinned as I realized how quickly he'd managed to have his concentration scattered as I continued to grind against him while lifting myself up and down in my own preferred rhythm.

Laughing, I told him, "Are you close to coming?"

He blinked and then groaned again as I moved once more. His tongue lolled at the corner of his mouth as he moaned, "Oh, fuck—yeeeessss."

"Then, keep your eyes on me...not...on...my...tits," I moaned as I started to feel the tightness of my inner walls began to tingle in a way that let me know another orgasm was close at hand. My already shallow breathing continued to rasp as I threw back my head and arched my chest forward in spite of my admonition for him not to look at my tits. I couldn't help it as I moaned his name, "Fuck, Booth—good...that's very good."

And, in that moment, it was good.

Very good.

And, quite thankfully, it was only about to get better.

I was so stunned when she did that little thing with her leg and rolled us over so that I was flat on my back again—I mean, it wasn't that I was surprised she could pull that off, what with all her black belts in karate and so on, but more that she'd done it when we were in such a delicious, sweet little groove, the way I was grinding into her—it was like a temporary brown-out for my neurons. It took me a few seconds to be able to do more than grunt in response. Then she started to give me this mini-lecture about staring at her tits, and it was a damn miracle I didn't blow a circuit considering what precious little mental bandwidth I was operating with at that point. But then she got to moving again, and holy hell, when she did, well, I'm being completely and 100% fucking honest when I say that her breasts were the last damn thing I was thinking about in that minute.

She lifted herself up just so and slid back down onto me, giving it just enough of a twist with her hips at the same time she got a little tighter, I felt my balls hitch real tight all of a sudden, and I knew I was just about there, and if I didn't pull my shit together quick, I was gonna mess this one up big time. She looked down at me, and asked me if I was about ready to come, and how I managed to croak out some kind of response which was itself a candidate for an episode of Unsolved Mysteries—although, to be honest, now that I think about it, I'm not sure I want my sex life narrated by Robert Stack, as awesome a gumshoe as he once was in the Golden Age of Hollywood PI movies—since she was sliding her hot, wet, tight pussy over me, fast enough to take me by surprise, but slow enough to keep me from going all the way over the edge. But in any case, I blurted something out that apparently was a good enough response for her that she kept moving.

My skin burned hot as she moved over me, and it felt so good I thought I was going to lose my goddamn mind. My mind raced and my eyes skimmed her chest, skating over the curves of her shoulders and lingering for a moment on the notch at the base of her neck, searching for something, anything, that I could anchor my mind to so I could hold myself together for just a little while longer.

Then she said, "Keep your eyes on me...not...on...my...tits," and even though she leaned forward, letting those magnificent breasts of hers swing forward a little, there was something arresting about the tone of her voice, so smooth and husky, it sounded like suede, and I brought my eyes up to meet hers.

I've been getting lost in those eyes of hers for years, ever since the very morning I met her when I walked into her lecture at American. She's got amazing eyes—the most amazing eyes I've ever seen—and I could spend a lifetime just looking into them. They're blue, of course, flecked with gray and rimmed with green, and they change color depending on her mood. I looked up and watched her eyes as she continued to move over me, anchoring myself in her gaze, squeezing her hips gently in my hands as I thrust up to meet each of her strokes and bury myself as deeply inside of her as I could. Her eyes seemed to swirl with feeling, darkening to the color of the sea on a cloudy day as she rolled her hips back and forth, and I couldn't help but smile at seeing the bright flicker each time I jerked up to meet her at the same time I pulled her hips into me.

"You feel so fucking amazing, Bones," I groaned as I felt her clench around me as her own breathy sighs and soaring moans peaked. "Ohhh, fuck!"

"Ohhhh," she sighed, arching her back and leaning over me, her hands pressing into my chest as she impaled herself on me one last time. "Ohhhhh, Booooo-ooooth! Ohhhh...aaahh..."

She tightened around me one last time before she broke, shattering into a wave of flutters as she quivered around me. I gave her soft, curvy hips one last squeeze before I let and reached up to cup her face between the palms my hands, pulling her mouth to mine and kissing her, closing my eyes as I felt her warm tongue glance against mine. Just a moment later, I let our kiss swallow my own moan as I, too, broke, thrusting up into her one last time as I came.

I cracked before he did, which I suppose might be slightly surprising considering the fact that I'd already come once. But, he wasn't that far behind me. I felt him buck his hips once more and thrust up into me at exactly the same time that I ground my hips one last time in an exquisite downward movement made all the more enjoyable by the shear friction of our bodies moving in simple unison.

I vaguely heard him cry out a string of uttered moans that made my already warm body flush anew in pleasure.

"God, Bones—" he whispered. "Baby, I think I'm...ohhh, fuck, baby...I, uhhh...ohhh, fuck...holy fuck...Boooonnes."

I collapsed against him and I felt him shudder as he moved once last time inside me, pouring himself into me as he came just as my knees started to lose the tight grip they'd held on his hips. By the time he was done, my body had lost the bility to remain upright as I pooled in a puddle of warm and sweaty softness on his stomach. I heard him grunt lightly as he struggled to draw in huge gasps of breath despite the fact that my body weighed down on him. Some conscious part of my brain realized this, and I summoned what non-existent energy I could to try to roll off of him. I wasn't certain how far I was going to get, but I knew I had to try because it would be a pretty dumb fucking horrible turn of luck if Booth and I finally got on the same metaphorical page at the same time, and he dropped dead from asphyxiation. However, as I grunted and tried to roll off of him, his chest heaved with a deep breath as his hands grabbed my ass and held me firmly in place.

His dark brown eyes focused on me as he continued to suck down air. He held my stare for a minute before he smiled a toothy grin, and said, "Nah uh."

"What?" I gasped. "You...need...to...breathe."

"I'm...fine," he said in between gulps of air. "Stay there."

"Why?" I asked him, even as I struggled to regain my equilibrium, beginning with a regular set of even and steady breaths.

"'Cause," he said with a sheepish grin. "I want you to stay put."

I pursed my lips and then shrugged my shoulders slightly as I snuggled against his chest. "If you become unconscious from a lack of oxygen, it's on you," I murmured against his sweaty pectoralis major muscle grouping.

"Mmm'kay," he murmured in agreement as he tilted his head and murmured into my ear. "Deal."

He brought his arms up and wrapped them around me, and I let him cradle me against his chest because I was feeling unusually feminine in that moment. I suppose it might've been due to the fact that Booth had finally found some way to render me speechless...even if the lack of verbalization on my part was temporary.

I made this point—i.e., that the lack of speaking on my part was temporary—when I yawned and then said softly, "Booth?"

"Hmmm?" he murmured drowsily into my ear.

"I'm still annoyed," I whispered.

"'Bout what?" he asked with his voice already heavy with a sound that I knew meant he wasn't that far from falling off to sleep.

"That we can't remember what happened last night," I said. I paused, and smiled as I felt the warmth of his body flowing into mine, and then amended, "But, I suppose if we're destined never to recover such memories, I'm okay with it since we'll always remember this time, right?"

Tilting his head at me, he smiled as he said, "Always, Bones."

We were quiet for another moment and then another thought jumped into my head.

"Booth?" I asked.

"Hmmmmm?"

"We'll figure out someway to make this work, right?" My voice was small in that moment, and there were many other questions that I wanted to ask him.

I wanted to know if what I felt for him was love.

I wanted to know if he meant it when he'd said he'd loved me.

I wanted to know how we'd manage to balance a joint personal life with our professional partnership.

And, most of all, I wanted to know how in the hell we'd manage to do that without everyone realizing what had shifted between us before we acclimated to the change ourselves.

With all those wants, it was hard to know where to begin, right? So, I just started at the top.

I think it's been mentioned before, but it's worth saying again. I've never been in love. Before Booth, I never even thought such a thing existed or was possible. But, when I was away from him after the surgery...during those weeks I spent in Guatemala? Well, I realized something very, very important about him...about myself..about us. I cared about him...and I felt something that I'd ever felt before and doubt I could ever feel for another person. So, that being said, if such a thing is the definition of love, then maybe it took me almost losing Booth to come to the conclusion that I love him.

I love Booth.

I have for a while now...and, well...maybe if I can say I definitely know the answer to that question...then maybe the other things weren't such big deals. Maybe just knowing that I love him and he loves me...maybe that would be enough proof for me to know that somehow, someway, I knew everything would be okay since all the other questions would be answered in due time.

He was silent for a minute, and even as I watched him struggle to formulate an appropriate response, I knew it didn't matter. We were together, and we loved each other, and we would find a way to make things work. Almost as if he sensed my realized, Booth gave me a relaxed smile as he replied, "Short strokes, remember, Bones?"

I did remember, and I nodded back at him with a slight smile tugging at the edge of my lips.

Something seemed to make Booth nervous in my demeanor because he then added, his voice calm and gentle, "You just gotta believe, Bones, we'll do what we need to do, get where we need to go, and figure things out in between, huh?"

I considered his words for a minute and then asked, "You really think we can make this work?"

He reached up, lifting his head off the bed, and gave me a lopsided grin as he nodded and then his mouth grasped for mine as he answered me with his kiss.

As his brain began to come out of its post-orgasmic haze, I had to admit that I was rather impressed that he'd hit upon a rather minimalist way to answer my question quite...effectively. Then, another part of me silently wondered if he thought that he might get the last word on the subject of what had just happened to us since—from a certain perspective—he'd shut me up with a kiss. For now, I decided, as I enjoyed the feel of his lips on mine, I was content to let him think he'd had finally gotten the last word between us...for once in his life. After all, I knew I could disabuse him of that mistaken belief if I ever really needed to...and for now, I was quite content to let him hold onto that false illusion as long as it meant he kept touching me and kissing me exactly as he was in the moment because it felt so damn good.

And, so, for now—as far as I was concerned in that moment—that was that.

I knew it.

I knew by the way she kissed me.

More than the words she said, or the tone of her voice, or even the way she looked at me with those incredible, gorgeous, soul-swallowing eyes of hers, it was the way she kissed me that told me she was ready to go all-in and give this thing between us a real shot. Her kisses had always been like that, really—going all the way back to the night our lips first met in that that knee-melting kiss in the driving rain behind my old pool bar—telling me the truth of how she really felt, even when she couldn't bring those same lips of hers to tell me with words.

I knew it.

I loved her. I loved her more than anything, more than I'd ever loved anyone else, and had for years, and feeling her lips on mine, grasping at my own as her tongue sought out the farthest corners of my mouth, I knew she loved me, too. She kissed me back, putting everything she had into that kiss as the rest of her body relaxed into my embrace.

I knew it.

Hot damn. Holy shit. Hot holy fuck.

I fucking knew it!

As I felt her body, warm and soft and supple, melt into my arms as our tongues twirled against one another, I knew I had everything I'd ever really wanted, right there in my arms.

When our lips finally broke apart, leaving us both gasping for air, I brought my hand up, threaded my fingers through her silky hair and stroked my thumb across her cheek as she looked at me with heavy-lidded eyes and a languid smile. I knew it, right then, in that moment...

I had everything, and I was never, ever gonna let it...or her go.

Epilogue - Two Weeks Later

"Thanks for meeting me here," Angela Montenegro said, setting her coffee mug down on the table and gazing out the window of the Royal Diner.

"Oh, it's no problem," Avalon replied with a smile as she took her seat across the table. "You seem worried," she observed, her blue eyes carefully scanning Angela's face as the younger woman continued to stare absently out the window. "But, then again, I think I know you well enough to know that without looking at the cards, Angie. So, come on. Tell me. What is it? What's got you worried this time?"

A smile cracked Angela's face as she turned away from the window.

"It's Brennan," she finally said with a gentle shrug. "She's been acting a little strange the last few days, you know. Really, the last week or two, now that I think about it. Almost distant...even for her, so that's saying something." She raised her coffee cup to her lips, but paused and didn't take a sip, instead holding the mug in her hands and staring at the contents before setting the cup on the table once more. She laughed awkwardly, swiveling the mug on the table distractedly as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "I mean, she's my best friend, and while I love her to pieces, I know she's not exactly the warm and gushy, touchy-feely kind, but still—"

Avalon looked up and smiled sweetly as she nodded at the waitress' silent offer of coffee. "Decaf, please," she said with a quick flash of her thin, carefully-waxed eyebrows. "What about her...her partner?" she asked, placing heavy emphasis on the word, which came across sounding like 'pot-nuh' in her sharp, clipped Brooklyn accent. "Agent Booth? Have you talked to him about this? What'd he say?"

Pursing her lips, Angela accepted a refill from the waitress who came with an orange-spouted pot of decaf in one hand and a black-spouted pot of regular in the other. After the waitress walked away, Angela peeled open another tiny cup of half and half, dumping its contents into her steaming mug.

"I, uhhh...well, I really haven't had the chance to talk to him that much outside of work," Angela confessed.

"He's been busy, hmmm?" Avalon asked. "Is that so?"

"Yeah," Angela nodded. "I guess."

Thoughtful for a minute, Avalon then said, "He was sick not too long ago, right?"

Slowly, Angela again nodded by way of an answer. "Yeah, a couple of months ago, he was in the hospital for some major surgery. But, he pulled through okay, and he's better now."

"Oh?" Avalon asked. "He doesn't...well, since then, he doesn't seem any different to you than before?"

The artist considered the psychic's question and then responded, "He seems, well, a bit happier, I guess," she said. "As if he's caught his stride again. Maybe, more upbeat? But he also seems a bit..." She hesitated, knitting her eyebrows in thought as she stirred her coffee. "A little more reserved than usual, I guess. Protective almost. Like he doesn't want us to know what's going on in his world or what he's doing when and with whom." She shook her head at a memory and smiled. "He's always been the private type, sure, but I don't think I've ever seen him this...guarded. Sweets has been trolling around asking about him. I suppose that could be it because, Lord knows, that'd be enough to get me to clam up, I guess."

"Hmmm," Avalon murmured with a faint smile. "You're not really the clamming-up type, Angie." The young artist smirked into her coffee but said nothing in reply. "So, these behavioral things that you think you've seen between the two of them. What's up with that?" She stopped as she tilted her head and added, "You think something's changed between them, don't you?"

Angela bit her lip, then glanced out the window before turning back to Avalon. "Yeah," she admitted. "It's possible, sure, I guess. But those two have been doing a dance for years. I just don't know anymore, though. I'm half expecting him to make a move and her to run halfway to Saipan when he does, and then other times I think everything might work out. I just don't know when it might happen or where, but I can't help feeling that things are in motion between the two, and I don't understand what I'm missing about it.."

"Mmm-hmmm," Avalon replied vaguely. She glanced out the window and watched a wave of pedestrians cross the street caddy-corner from the diner. "I think things have changed," she said. "They changed weeks ago, I think."

"Really?" Angela asked, as she sat up a bit straighter in her seat and her expressive almond-shaped brown eyes growing wider at the psychic's expression of her opinion. "Why do you say that?"

"I don't know," the psychic shrugged. "I can't explain everything all the time. You know that's not how this works, Angie."

Looking slightly abashed, Angela nodded, "Yeah, I know. I'm sorry. It's just that Bren is my best friend, and I'm worried about her."

"Well, you shouldn't be," Avalon told her reassuringly. "Not about him...not about this. Like I said, I'm not quite certain how or why, but I do have a good feeling about this...about them. I think, in the end, things will work out for those two."

"Is that what the cards say?" Angela asked, her eyebrows arched hopefully.

Avalon narrowed her eyes and rolled her lips together firmly as she inhaled the steam that rose from her coffee. "Don't worry about them," she said. "I know for a fact that everything's gonna work out for those two. They've been bound to one another for a long, long time. They'll be fine. Trust me."

Angela was silent for a moment and then said with a soft sigh, "Okay, then," Angela said, sliding her coffee cup to the edge of the table nearest the window. "I trust you, Avalon. I guess I'll have to take your word for it since you haven't been wrong yet."

Avalon shrugged with a noncommittal smile. "Besides," she added with a twinkle in her eye. "I think that you'll have your hands so full in the coming months, you won't really have time to worry about what's going on in Temperance's love life."

Angela turned her head and cocked an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"You've got changes ahead of you," Avalon said vaguely. "Things will fall in place for you, and when that happens, that husband of yours won't leave you much time to worry about somebody's else's living arrangements."

Angela's eyes opened wide. "Husband?"

"Mmmm," Avalon murmured, whatever else she had to say swallowed up by the brim of her coffee cup as she brought it to her lips, smiling all the while.

~The End~ (for scenario #8)

-TBC- (for the series)

A/N: So, there you go—Dharmasera's first real foray into an alternating POV first-person narrative. (We'd say it was 100% first person, but obviously we cheated a bit with the Epilogue there.) Hmmm. So. We thought it was a pretty good experiment and yielded pretty effin hilarious results.

What do you folks think? Writing an "unf" scene in alternating first person is, as we discovered, not an easy thing to pull off. It proved fairly challenging to write, even for the two of us who are at this point *cough* fairly experienced in writing "unf" scenes. (Heh.)

So, did it work? Let us know what you thought of this fifth and second-to-last installment of "He Said, She Said." Lurkers, we know you're out there. Come on. De-lurk and tell us what you think.

Technical note on reviews: Some of our longtime readers/reviewers come across as "Guest" anonymous reviews because the FFnet system doesn't have them logged in at the time they review. If you want to review anonymously, by all means, please do so. If you want us to know who you are, make sure the review box has your name at the top before you click the magical "Post Review" button.

Thanks! We love you guys and we always, always love hearing from you.