Pairing: Booth/Brennan.

Rating: M.

Spoilers: specific references "The Woman in the Sand," "The Girl in the Goop," and "The Daredevil in the Mold," but also anything up to Season 6.

Summary: Booth and Brennan go undercover at a club and get slipped ecstasy.

Author's note: This PWP ficlet was written in response to rachg82's prompt for the bitesize_bones LJ community's Cliché!Fic/Crack!Fic Meme.

You Feel Like Paradise (& I Need a Vacation Tonight)

By bantam-shine

"To Roxy and Tony's return! Cheers, Booth!" Brennan screamed into her partner's ear, attempting to be heard over the pulsating techno music.

Booth offered her a broad smile. "Cheers, Bones!"

The partners licked the salt on their hands, tapped their shot glasses together, downed the golden liquid, and shoved the lime wedges into their mouths. They shuddered slightly, then leaned on the bar. Smirking at each other, they thought of an undercover case in Vegas they worked six years prior to this one. Tonight, they reprised those roles while undercover at a D.C. speakeasy club. They were on a mission to arrest the club owner, the killer in their latest case.

Brennan snatched Booth's fedora, placing it atop her voluminous hair with a wink.

"Play nice, Roxy baby." Booth gave Brennan a very deliberate once-over.

Brennan failed to suppress a mischievous grin. She reveled in Booth's reaction to the impossibly short, backless, sleeveless, silver sequined dress she bought specifically for this case. Wearing stilettos gave Booth a better view of the plunging neckline that caught his attention as soon as he saw her.

Booth may have been staring at Brennan's tits, but he was a perceptive guy. He saw her lick her glossy red lips as soon as he unbuttoned his blue suit jacket, revealing a vest beneath. He had to admit, though, the sight of her wearing his hat made his mind meander into the realm of I wonder what she'd look like wearing just my hat. Brennan dragged her metallic nails up Booth's suit-clad arms. Booth grabbed her hands, kissing each palm and clasping them behind his neck. His arms encircled her waist.

Rick, the bartender, glanced at Booth and Brennan. This gorgeous, impeccably dressed couple had been good tippers for the past hour, but their ongoing public display of affection was blocking other potential customers ordering drinks. Rick leaned over the bar, cleared his throat and tapped Booth on the shoulder.

Booth and Brennan jumped apart, but their arms automatically wound around each other's waists as they turned to face the bartender.

"Sorry, pal." Booth flashed the bartender his best charm smile.

"No problem, buddy. Have some complimentary lime candies for being such generous customers." Rick pushed a cocktail napkin towards the partners. This oughtta keep 'em preoccupied for the rest of the night.

Brennan examined the two small green candies that had limes imprinted on them. She handed one to Booth and affected Roxy's drawl, "They kinda look like M&M's."

Rick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "These are special candies, though. You don't chew 'em, you just swallow 'em."

Booth tapped the bar twice with his knuckles and thanked the bartender. The partners exchanged bemused glances and popped the candy into their mouths, swallowing. Brennan tugged Booth's hand, leading him to the dance floor.

An hour after arresting the club owner, Booth and Brennan rejoined the crowd on the dance floor. They weren't sure why their senses were heightened; they had four rounds of Patrón shots, as well as a scotch and a glass of red wine respectively. They even drank glasses of water to preemptively avoid hangovers. Waves of heat rolled down their spines. The multicolored strobe lights were flashing in perfect unison with the song's beat. They couldn't stop touching each other because of how good it felt. They had been dancing for a couple hours, only taking breaks to hydrate.

Booth and Brennan used the packed dance floor as an excuse to challenge the laws of physics; they tried to occupy the same space simultaneously. During some point in their intense grinding — uh, dancing session, Brennan returned Booth's fedora to his head, but she wore his tie. To test their stamina (of their theatrical skills), the partners attempted to stay in character.

"Booth — " Brennan purred into her partner's ear, rubbing her smooth cheek against his slightly stubbly jaw. He shivered slightly as her soft lips brushed his earlobe.

"Mm, Bones — " Booth nuzzled Brennan's neck and mumbled into it, "I mean, Roxy."

Brennan nodded against his cheek, still enjoying the scrape of his five o'clock shadow against her jaw. She slowly pulled back from their swaying embrace, batting her smoky-lidded eyes. "How ya feelin', Tony?"

Booth leered, his hands tracing hot circles in the small of her back. "Almost as good as you look, baby."

"You like me wearin' your tie?" She impishly slapped him with the end of his tie. "'Cause it shows all the other guys that I'm yours?"

"That and I like how it falls on you, baby." He dropped a kiss behind her ear and trailed kisses down her neck, stopping short of her cleavage.

She inhaled sharply. "Booth, honey —"

Booth raised an eyebrow at Brennan's slip, but didn't stop staring at Brennan's dress while running his hands up and down her sides. "Bones, baby, I feel the light sparkling off your dress."

Brennan giggled. Booth beamed in surprise; Bones never giggled. Cupping his strong jaw in her hands, she closed the remaining space between them, pressing her mouth to his, her lips tingling from the vibrations of the music.

"I taste the song in your kiss."

She noticed that the strobe lights changed the energy in the room.

Brennan wondered aloud, "Do the multicolored lights feel different?"

Booth nodded, resting his hands at the small of her back. A golden sheen settled on the crowd.

"Yellow is butter melting on top of the pancakes we ate at the diner on Tuesday morning."

"I didn't order pancakes." Her brow furrowed.

"No you didn't. You ordered the fruit bowl, but stole half of my pancakes." He chuckled.

"Fair enough." Fuchsia flashed in time with the techno beat. "Pink is a sweet drop of watermelon juice running down Parker's chin at Ange and Hodgins' barbecue last weekend."

Blue burst across the ceiling and floor.

"Blue is your eyes — brightest when you're happy, but always beautiful. I'd sell a stranger a kidney if you asked me to while batting your big blue eyes at me."

Red spun erratic circles on the walls.

"Red is your cocky belt buckle that I replaced when the suicide bomber Santa's remains landed on it. I had to take yogic breaths and mentally brace myself to remove it without trembling."

Brennan winked at Booth, steering him backwards while dancing towards a wall. He leaned back against the wall, his stance wide. She spun around, grinding against him, which he responded to in kind. He gripped her waist, pressing her closer to him. She laced her fingers with his. Booth's suit and vest buttons rasped against Brennan's exposed back.

Booth rested his chin in the crook of her shoulder, his tongue darting up the curve of her graceful neck. He smacked his lips, savoring the mixture of her citrus perfume and salty sweat. Brennan whipped around, knocking his hat off his head and onto hers. She raked her hands through his thick hair, happy that he opted for no gel that night. He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch.

Booth's eyes snapped open when he sensed Brennan's mouth hovering over his. He nudged the fedora brim up and kissed her ferociously, his tongue sweeping into her mouth insistently. One hand brought her hips flush with his; the other fisted her hair, yanking her closer. They moaned, dueling for dominance.

She tore away first, chest heaving. "I believe this is the part of the evening when I suggest that we —" She waved a hand in the air, "What's the euphemism? Ah yes."

Brennan smoothed the front of his crisp dress shirt, assuming Roxy's coyness, "Let's get outta here and go somewhere quieter. Y'know, somewhere we can talk.'"

Booth growled into her ear, nibbling it, "Your place is closer."

Brennan threaded her fingers through his. He followed her, trailing behind just enough to admire her sashaying in her tiny dress and fuck me shoes. As they waited for a cab outside the club, he briefly let go of her hand to slip his jacket over her shoulders. The sight of the blue material enveloping her made his heart swell and his arousal grow. She leaned back against him, marveling at how well her head fit in the crook of his shoulder. She felt safe, yet enthralled with his strong arms around her. One hand was splayed on her hip, while the other traced his name onto her stomach.

Upon entering her apartment, Brennan kicked her silver stilettos off, flinging them onto the living room floor. She tossed Booth's fedora beside her heels. Booth removed his jacket from her shoulders and threw it atop his hat. She attempted to cha-cha to her iPod dock and pushed play. He snickered as she stared upwards and spun in time with her ceiling fan.

"What's so funny, Booth?" Brennan shook her hips and threw her arms up.

"I didn't take you for a Britney Spears fan, Bones." Booth slinked into the kitchen, where he grabbed two large glasses of water.

After they chugged the water and put the glasses in the dishwasher, Booth joined Brennan, who was still moving, uninhibited, to the upbeat bass line in the living room.

She explained, "I compiled a playlist of current dance and techno music last week to better understand the clubbing subculture. I found that my enjoyment of these selections was directly correlated to the amount of alcohol I had consumed and the frequency of which I played them."

He took her hand and twirled her. "Just admit it, Bones. You like catchy house music."

"While the significance of the genre name eludes me, yes I do. Like it, I mean." A giggle escaped Brennan's lips as Booth dipped her, her laughter's natural melody and the synthesized beat of the song juxtaposed. "I also approve of how direct Britney Spears' proposition is in the song."

"Only you would say a pop song about taking a stranger home from a club was a girl power anthem." He shook his head amusedly.

Brennan backed away from Booth. She gently pushed him into an armchair, straddling him and singing,

"'Cause you feel like paradise

And I need a vacation tonight

If I said I want your body now

Would you hold it against me?"

Booth's hands glided up Brennan's smooth legs. He swallowed audibly, thrusting upwards in tandem with her rotating hips. "I'll hold my body against yours as long as you'll let me, baby."

Brennan smirked and slid backwards, resting on his thighs. She unbuttoned his vest, flinging it open and off so she could unbutton his dress shirt. Booth reached behind her and unzipped her dress. Without warning, he secured her legs around his waist and carried her to her dimly lit bedroom. Tossing her onto the bed, he rid himself of his shirt and undershirt. He strode predatorily toward her.

Brennan shimmied to the foot of the bed, reaching for his cocky belt buckle. He tugged her dress over her head, watching it crumple in a glittery heap atop the growing pile of clothes. She yanked his belt out of his belt loops, the buckle clattering loudly as it hit the floor. The sound of her flicking his pants button open and his zipper coming undone resonated through her bedroom, in spite of the music from Brennan's clubbing playlist blasting in the living room. He toed his striped socks off, his pants dropping with a whoosh.

Booth appraised Brennan — her kiss-swollen lips parted, breasts straining against an indigo backless bodice, her matching lacy thong contrasting with her long ivory legs. She slid backwards, slipped under the covers and leaned back on a couple pillows. Brennan appreciated Booth's tanned, toned form, especially his broad shoulders; his black boxer briefs accentuated his lean oblique muscles, clinging to his erection and backside.

Brennan threw the sheets back. Booth crawled to her and settled between her legs. He propped himself up on his elbows, biceps flexing. She hooked one foot behind his calf and the other around his waist. She etched outlines of his biceps and shoulders with her nails, causing him to shiver. He tucked a curl behind her ear affectionately and kissed her thoroughly, their mouths and tongues tangling languidly as she scratched his back.

Booth pulled back, leaning his forehead against hers. "Bones, if we do this, there's no going back. No more being just partners. And sex will not be a biological imperative; it'll be making love."

Brennan nodded confidently. "Don't get defensive when I say this —"

He braced himself for a verbal lashing, but was mollified by her smoothing his furrowed brow with her fingertips.

"— but you're the one who reestablished the just partners boundaries. Not that I blame you, of course, but I know what you're offering. I would like to accept the terms now."

Relieved, he kissed her cheek. "I love you, Bones. You know that, right?"

She bussed his cheek, as well. "Yes. I have concluded that I feel the same about you, Booth."

He sighed exaggeratedly. "You're killin' me, Smalls."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't know what that means, but I love you, too."

Booth knelt over Brennan, gesturing for her to sit up. He kissed her neck and shoulders as he peered behind her, unhooking the row of clasps on the back of her bodice. He tossed the bodice aside, cupping her breasts, kissing and tweaking her nipples to peaks. She sighed as he kissed his way to her navel. He teased her, nibbling and squeezing her inner thighs, making her squirm in anticipation.

"Antsy much, Bones?" He smiled wolfishly, thrilled that she was already soaked.

"Booth — pleaseoff —" She writhed as his lips fluttered right above the lacy band of her thong.

"Since you asked so nicely and you smell incredible —"

Booth slowly eased Brennan's thong off and tossed it aside. Lying on his stomach, he threw her legs over his shoulders and kissed her pussy, his tongue parting it. He moaned, overwhelmed that he was finally able to do this and that he was driving her crazy. She whimpered, hands fisting his hair, tugging. Her hips lifted off the bed. He ran his thumbs along her opening while plunging his tongue into her. He paused. She almost cried at the loss of contact when he pushed two fingers into her.

"Ohfuck!" She gritted out as her hips rotated to the rhythm his fingers and mouth set.

"Always knew you'd be a curser." He muttered against her inner thigh, smiling slightly.

She couldn't form a coherent thought, much less a snappy rebuttal. His tongue swirled around her clit. His fingers alternately thrust in and out and beckoned inside of her. Her back arched as he devoured her. Her toes curled, digging into the mattress. While relentlessly pumping his fingers into her, he sucked her clit hard.


Her entire body shook from the force of her orgasm; every cell exploded with pleasure. Her hips dropped onto the bed. Her legs felt boneless. He kissed her ankles, lips skating up her legs and torso to her neck. She sighed, utterly sated. She snuggled closer when he flipped them onto their sides. Facing each other, he gathered her in his arms, their legs entwined, her arms draped around his shoulders. He popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean.

"Did you enjoy that as much as I did, Bones?" Booth teased, kissing the corner of her mouth.

Brennan replied haughtily, "Now that I've regained my ability to move, we'll see how smug you are when I'm done with you."

She extracted herself from his embrace and playfully shoved him backwards, propping his head up with pillows. She straddled his waist, leaning down so her breasts brushed his chest. She teased his nipples with her lips and teeth. He hissed, his cock throbbing with want. While kissing down his torso, she met his piercing gaze, knelt between his legs and pulled his boxer briefs off.

Brennan gasped. She had seen Booth naked once, but that was years ago. Though the image was imprinted in her memory forever, she seemed to have forgotten just how glorious the real naked Booth was.

Booth smirked cockily and tipped her chin up to look at him. "My eyes are up here, Bones."

She rolled her eyes. Still looking at him, she placed an open mouthed kiss on the tip of his dick, her tongue swirling around it.

"Damn, baby —" He moaned.

She massaged his balls in one hand, taking him as far into her mouth as she could. He reminded himself to breathe and tucked her hair behind her ear. She alternately licked and sucked him while her other hand followed, pumping his length. When she paused to toss her hair out of her face, he yanked her upwards so she was lying on top of him.

"Booth! You haven't —"

In one swift motion, Booth pinned her beneath him, holding her hands above her head and staring intently at her. He hovered over her, propped up by his elbows. "Bones, I'm not coming anywhere except inside you."

Brennan's mouth went dry. She began to retort, "Then why — oh, fuck —"

Booth interrupted Brennan by letting go of her hands and plunging his hard cock into her soaked pussy. Both cried out from pleasure as he set a rapid pace. She met his fast strokes, their bodies slick with sweat, hearts racing. She grabbed his face in both hands, kissing him deeply, their tongues tangling. Suddenly, he straightened, towering over her, though he was kneeling. He threw her legs over his shoulders. Holding her ankles on either side of his head, he pounded into her.

"Booth — I'm so close —"

"We're coming together, Bones."

Booth touched Brennan's clit. Her walls immediately clenched around him, pulsating, triggering his orgasm. Shuddering, he came inside her. Gently lowering her legs, he collapsed on top of her, sighing happily. He kissed her tenderly, stroking her hair. She exhaled blissfully, scratching his back. A few minutes later, she disrupted their post-coital tranquility.

"As much as I enjoy being physically connected to you, Booth, it would be hygienically beneficial to separate at some point."

Booth blushed and pulled out, rolling off of her.

"Race you to my shower!" Brennan jumped off her bed and bolted for her bathroom with Booth in close pursuit.

"What time is it, Bones?" Booth asked his partner once they returned to her bed after their slightly counterproductive joint shower.

Brennan glanced at her bedside clock and curled up with her partner, relishing the coolness of her cotton sheets and the warmth of his naked body next to hers. "4:46 AM."

"We were at work by 7:30 this morning —"

"Technically yesterday morning."

"— okay, yesterday morning, worked all day —"

"Aside from meals."

"— caught the bad guy and danced our asses off for hours —"

"And engaged in —"

He cleared his throat, taking her into his arms, her head tucked beneath his chin.

"— made love several times tonight."

"We should be exhausted. But we've been wired since that last round of Patrón shots."

Comprehension dawned on Brennan.

"After taking those shots, the bartender shooed away."


"He gave us complimentary lime candies to get us to leave the bar."


"I am starting to doubt your deductive skills, Special Agent Seeley Booth."

"Doctor Temperance Brennan, are you implying that the bartender drugged us?"

"I believe that he gave us methylenedioxymethamphetamine, commonly known as MDMA or —"

"Ecstasy? We've been on ecstasy all night?"

"We should be reaching the end of the plateau period and will be coming down shortly after —"

"I don't know whether to go back to that club and arrest the bartender or thank him."

"As though we needed the methylenedioxymethamphetamine —"


"— to consummate our relationship. Roxy and Tony —"

"Are our alter-egos, but they're still us, Bones. Or we're still them. Or something."


"What was that? You mumbled that into my chest. Would you mind repeating that?"

"Like. Kathy. And. Andy."

"I always knew I was Andy!"

"I find inspiration for my characters in people I know."

"Can we try Page 187?"

Comprehension dawned on Booth.

"Hey, you just admitted we're Kathy and Andy so that I'd suggest trying Page 187!"

"There are those deductive skills that the FBI values so much!"

"You're gonna be the death of me, woman."

"Figuratively. You're equally exasperating, at times. But you love me."

"You love me, too!"

"Perhaps we can agree to be each other's figurative cause of death —"

"A little morbid for pillow talk, Bones."

"—because we know each other best and love each other. In addition to continuing to do nice things for each other, we'll perform Page 187 and other favorites from our sexual repertoire daily."

"Deal. But how do you know that Page 187 will be one of our favorites?"

"Call it a gut feeling."

The End