slashthedrabble | Just a touch of angsty church!kink

Author: Lostakasha
Fandom: Bones
Pairing: Jack Hodgins/Seeley Booth
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 600
Disclaimer: Don't own them. But you'd see more of this if I did.
For

slashthedrabble angst challenge.

In Nominé Patris

He’s loose enough to talk about being an altar boy now, tracing the rim of his near-empty glass with a spatulate fingertip. Leans back against the leather banquette and smirks at me, ready for a fight.

“Don’t give me any shit about being Catholic,” he warns, eyes narrowed to slits. “Or any of your ‘religion is the opiate of the people’ crap.”

Open my face like a new prayer book, innocent and fresh. “Nah. That’d be like trying to teach a dog to play the piano. Just wastes my time and annoys the dog.”

And Booth is a big dog, all taut muscle and bared teeth and danger. He’s been like this from the minute he swung his narrow hips into the booth and opened his arms like a crucified thief, consuming his side of the table. He plays it like he’s at Wong Foo’s, striding in and owning the place, but I know he’d never try this game under Sid’s watchful eye.

Not that Sid doesn’t already know, connoisseur of appetites that he is. Booth probably thinks he’s doing him a favor by coming here, by giving him one less secret to keep.

Emboldened by the tight space and dim light I lean forward and feel the damp fabric between my shoulders peel away from my skin. Clench my jaw against an unbidden shiver as sweat curls down my spine and creeps into the cleft of my ass.

“I detest all my sins because I dread the loss of heaven and the pains of hell, but most of all because I have offended Thee my God. . .”

Booth’s eyes widen as I slap a fifty on the table and lift myself out of range, head for the door. I don’t look back. Don’t have to. It’s not even a quarter of a block before a massive hand lifts me by the armpit and steers me into an alley between two brownstones.

He towers over me, pushes hard enough to crack my head against the brick wall. Whiff of Crown Royal on his breath makes my eyes sting, but I don’t flinch because no matter what else he might be, he’s still a fed, and I’ll be damned if any one of those clowns will ever make me blink.

“You’ve got a smart mouth, Hodgins.”

No flinching.

“Yeah, I do. And if you think it’s going around your cock you’re mistaken.”

It’s not dark enough that I don’t see his face flush then drain of color. Open palms slam me against the wall for good measure because that’s how they do it in the movies or he thinks that’s what McQueen would do.

So I slam back and push my elbows out to break his stance, reach up, grab a handful of his hair and close the gap between us. Take his mouth and bite more than kiss because that’s part of the game; it has to be rough and raw and this is complete and utter bullshit. Resist the crack of teeth against teeth; remember who I am and what I’ve wanted for all these months and kiss him for real, hot and wet and deep.

Break and swallow traces of blood and whiskey and salt that make my cock stiff and my breath catch in my throat. Push him back, hard, and he looks tasered, rocking back on his heels and cutting me with black, black eyes.

“Fucking feds in dark alleys is against my religion,” I tell him, knocking against his shoulder as I push past. “You want me? You’re gonna have to come to my church.”