Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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Time ~ Jack Hodgins/Seeley Booth

by Snow

R? *la*
Not Mine

Time is the most valuable thing a man can spend.

They hadn’t kissed yet.

They’d done pretty much everything else, but … they hadn’t kissed. Played pool. Drank beer. Watched football. Shoulders brushing and knuckles rubbing as they reached for their mugs and a loud laugh would turn into a locked gaze. Brown on blue, a raised eyebrow and suddenly neither of them were laughing at all and no one could say what the score on the television was, but they both knew it.

Booth went to mass.

He sat in the back pew, his tie hanging out between his knees when he bowed his head and prayed. When he made the sign of the cross and knelt on the padded bar, his hands clenched into fists. What he wanted and what he needed and what he knew was right were so fucking far away from each other.

In the same way the men also abandoned natural relations with women and were inflamed with lust for one another. Men committed indecent acts with other men, and received in themselves the due penalty for their perversion.

Penalty. Death. Hell. Perversion. Twisted. Wrong.

Still he could not get the thought of Jack’s lips out of his mind. And the way he wanted to taste them. To touch them. To make them warm and soft against his and to hold that man under him. To spread him wide open and find what he was looking for ... find what he needed.

Booth flirted with Angela. He stood too close to Temperance. He snarked with Cam and he called Rebecca. He randomly dated and he took a week off and he didn’t call Jack once. Not one time. Not even when Atlanta took Tampa Bay 14 – 3.

Then they worked the Epps case. Again. Tempe saved his life and killed a man and Booth had heard the desperation in Jack’s voice over the phone. He wanted to be there. He wanted to smell it. Feel it. Taste it.

They went back to the Jeffersonian after it was over. Booth sat with Bones until she stopped shaking, and she was. Even if her hands were solid and still, her voice calm and quiet. They talked about pets and pigs and death. Right and wrong and life and justice. Booth gave her a gift and wandered down to the lab’s smaller offices. He followed the single light until he found Jack peering through a microscope. He was hunched over a desk with a foam container of half-eaten dinner of trout with salmon mousse and asparagus salad beside him.

“I’ve seen war.”

Seeley watched Jack’s head turn, he waited for those blue eyes to clear and focus before he continued. His fingers curled around the edge of the door as he shut it behind him.

“I’ve been in situations … in places … didn’t know I was ever going to get out. Didn’t think I’d ever see my own home again. My son … Have my life back. Have any life at all.”

Seeley felt as exposed as the specimen on the slide under Jack’s microscope. But he kept going. He didn’t stop. He moved to the other side of the desk and without losing any eye contact at all, he bent his knees. He moved until he was on the same level as Jack in his chair and he was between Jack’s legs. Booth’s fingers tripping up the tight, folded denim.

“I’ve learned that we take what is given us, we go with our impulses. We travel down roads with no compass and we never pass an opportunity like this … we never pass it by.”

Booth leaned into Jack’s personal space as if he owned it. He was close enough that he could taste the lemon vinaigrette of Jack’s salad when he inhaled and he felt their lips touch. He didn’t close his eyes. He didn’t waver or hesitate or push too fast. He felt the tickle of soft curls and the smooth, warm, dry press of the kiss.

His fingers moved from Jack’s inner thigh to his groin as he outlined Jack’s cock through his jeans and Seeley licked Jack’s lips. He made them wet, tracing them with the tip of his tongue from one corner to the other. He sucked Jack’s lower lip between his teeth and then … then … Booth closed his eyes.

He closed his eyes when he felt Jack’s hands on his shoulders, sliding down to his arms. When he felt Jack’s fingers digging in through the cotton of his shirt and there was need there. There was desire. There was heat and passion and promise.

“I don’t want to pass you by, Jack … I don’t want to miss one moment of this…”

Tags: bones, booth, ficlets, seeley/jack

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