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It is completely normal to be intrigued by the taboo, and to in turn, find that it stimulates and heightens sexual arousal. At least, that’s what Temperance Brennan tells herself as she allows this to get completely out of control. She’d done it with Michael Stiles on numerous occasions. Intellectual one-upmanship turned to physical one-upmanship quite seamlessly, in both cases ending with her on top. It was a thrill. It was stimulating. And it is something she’ll never attain again, no matter how she replicates the circumstances.
Of course this would be different. They may be teacher and student, they may be the only two human beings in this lab that truly understand one another, but Zack is not Michael Stiles. He has none of the quick wit or charm that Michael has. He’s methodical. Mechanical. Meticulous. Detail oriented. And ultimately, what’s lead her to where she is right now is that he’s safe. Temperance Brennan can pull Zack Addy in by the lapels of his lab coat because she knows he’s going to go pliant beneath her. She can shove him onto the couch in her office because she knows he’s going to catch them both. Because he knows that it is entirely reasonable to desire what is culturally taboo. Because he understands that she’s been hurt deeply by someone close, and he’s been hurt just as many times for making the mistake of trusting someone he shouldn’t. Because she knows he’s just as curious as she is, and he’s a scientist who is willing and eager to help a colleague test a hypothesis.
But there's something just...off about it. His hands are skilled, as they are in everything, moving not aimlessly around her body, but with calculated purpose, one on her hip and the other at the nape of her neck, pulling her in as he kisses her. His lips are soft against hers. Plush. Full. She's often looked at them and wondered with a detached sort of curiosity what it might feel like to slide her tongue past them. It's strange. Passionate and disconnected all at once. He's executing a function. But he's doing it well, so she doesn't stop him from kissing down her neck, nor does she remove his hand when he slides it to her thigh, pushing her legs apart. Instead, she runs her nails through his hair, digging them into his scalp as she gently pushes him down.
He drops dutifully to the floor, looking up with expectant eyes as his deft fingers unhook her slacks. She lifts her hips, allowing him to slide the fitted garment to the floor where it pools around her ankles, letting out a soft gasp as he kisses up the soft skin of her thighs. It should be great. Fantastic, even. She can't think of one other person in the entire world who understands her the way Zack does. Can't think of one other person who'd do this quite so carefully. So thoughtfully. So eagerly. He's good at it, even. His tongue betrays none of the awkwardness it does in conversation, circling her with a practiced ease and confidence he seldom has in speaking.
There's just something...not quite right about it. Temperance can't stand that she can't shake the feeling of wrongness, especially as it has no clear source. This is excellent. This should be exactly what she needs. She squeezes her eyes shut, grinding hard against her intern's face as she lets sensation overwhelm her, attempting to disconnect from the source of her pleasure. She'd started this, after all. She'd needed this. She needs this. Just for a little while. To feel safe, and understood, and to feel something coursing through her veins that wasn't anger and betrayal. To surrender to the oxytocin, dopamine, and serotonin for just a brief, blinding moment. Her fingers tighten in Zack's hair, tugging him against her roughly, and he whimpers from between her legs.
He's mumbling something breathlessly against her thigh. Either a plea or a warning, she's not quite present enough to catch it, and he isn't exactly being coherent. She feels the words more than hears them, the shape of "Please, Doctor Brennan-"pressed desperately against the junction of femur and pelvis with full lips slick from her own desire. There's something perverse about it. Something that makes her stomach do an awkward flip flop. But here he is pleading with her. Begging for her. Whatever this is, he needs it just as badly. He's thought about it twice as much as she has. He's been thinking about it since Michael walked into the lab, she knows. Beyond the awkward, confused comments about the parallels between her and Michael's relationship and their own, she's watched his eyes linger on her figure with a level intrigue and curiosity he usually reserves for human remains. Temperance Brennan is not one to make assumptions, but hypotheses based on contextual evidence are entirely fair game, and this seemed evidence enough to completely prove that Zack has been waiting for an opportunity to test their sexual compatibility.
She doesn't get a chance to ask aloud what it is he's begging for, too concerned with chasing release for herself. She uses her hold on his hair to jerk him back where she wants him, and receives her answer in much clearer terms than words can vocalize. He moans around her, long and low, hips rutting desperately into the edge of the couch, arms shaking around her thighs, and she realizes all at once what he was trying to tell her. It's a bit stunning, really. Something of an ego boost. She can't say she's ever made someone achieve orgasm without so much as unbuckling their belt before, but she's going to be thinking about it for a while after this. His cheek rests against her thigh, eyes glassy with lust as he pants, and she feels her face flush with embarrassment. There's that feeling of wrongness again. That little pang of guilt that should be sexy, but instead just feels strange. Before she can say anything about it, though, he returns to his post with renewed vigor, and she forgets about everything that isn't the feeling of his tongue pressed hot to her clit. She nearly crushes his head between her thighs as he brings her swiftly over the edge, her back arching up off the couch. He holds her tightly in place through it, unrelenting as her pleasure crests, uncaring of the way the heels of her pumps are digging into the space between his scapulae, single-mindedly focused on his task the way he always is. It's as if he knows as surely as she does that this is never going to happen again, and he must drink his fill of her while it lasts. He releases her finally when she goes completely limp in his grasp, pushing weakly at his forehead and whimpering in over-stimulation.
It takes her a second to come back down to earth, metaphorically speaking. In terms of technique, it was perfect. She's still trembling slightly, still tingling, still just a little dizzy, but with every breath she takes, the wrongness begins to set in. She opens her eyes, looking down at her dear friend- her trusting student- resting his head against her knee. His face is still wet. So is the couch beneath her. So is the collar of his tee shirt, just at the edge. It matches the large wet patch spreading across the front of his jeans, and she can't help but feel embarrassed at the debauchery of it all.
"That was..." she starts breathlessly, feeling as though she ought to break this strange new tension that has blossomed where only lust had been before.
"Odd." Zack finishes her thought, using the sleeve of his lab coat to wipe his chin.
Temperance feels a sense of relief wash over her immediately. Truly, there's no one in this world who understands her the way Zack does. It's like they share a brain sometimes. Which, now that she was analyzing this experiment, might be part of the problem.
"Very."
"I... don't think we'd benefit from repeating this experiment." He confesses, rolling to sit on the floor with his head resting against the edge of the couch.
"I agree." She says, looking him over once again as she pulls her slacks back over her legs. "But um. Thank you for your participation."
"It was a hypothesis I wanted to test as well, Doctor Brennan." Zack shrugs, and she feels that sense of guilt lessen just a bit. "The results were very conclusive."
She watches as he stands, frowning with flushed cheeks at the damp patch at the front of his jeans. He slips his lab coat off, tying the wet sleeves awkwardly around his waist in an attempt to cover himself, and she can't help but smile a little bit at the sight. It is a little funny, after all. And there was still some small part of her ego that purred at the evidence of the affect she'd had on him, if only for a brief moment.
"I don't think we should mention this to anyone." He says quickly.
"You're embarrassed because you achieved climax prematurely?"
"No, I just-"
"It's perfectly normal in moments of heightened arousal. It's a simple biological reaction. Nothing to be ashamed of." She shrugs, running her hands through her hair in an effort to fix it.
"Doctor Brennan, please."
He's turned an interesting shade of pink, eyes cast to the floor, arms stiff at his side, and she realizes that she's said something wrong. Of course. Zack might be her peer, but his rationality didn't preclude him from emotion any more than hers did. She's not good at emotion. Neither is he. She stands and straightens her blazer, tossing her hair over her shoulder and speaking to the bottom shelf of her bookshelves instead of directly to him.
"I understand." She says, allowing just a little bit of that shame she's feeling to color her tone. "And I agree. I don't think either of us would benefit from recounting this."
"Thank you." He replies, still avoiding looking at her. Silently, Temperance wonders if he'll ever look at her the same again. Or, indeed, if she'll ever be able to look at him without thinking of this moment.
"Of course, Zack."