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In The Dark, I Hear You Cry
The CBI may be based in Sacramento, but their work can take the major crimes team all over California and sometimes just over the border too. Today they’re in Santa Barbara for a case that has got weirder and weirder by the minute.
It’s the evening now and they’re all at a motel. It’s nothing much, just a low, sun-bleached strip tucked a few blocks back from the Santa Barbara shoreline, where the ocean air still sneaks in despite the hum of traffic. The sign outside flickers between ‘VACANCY’ and ‘V C NCY’, the missing letters buzzing faintly. Inside, the rooms smell of old detergent and something vaguely citrus, a half-hearted attempt at freshness. The team have claimed five of the vacant rooms, relieved that it’s not as bad as the dive they stayed in a few weeks prior in Fresno.
Outside, the sky is settling into a coastal dusk, pink fading to deep blue, palm trees etched in silhouette. It should feel like a vacation town, but this is hardly a vacation. The case continues to be their main priority, one that took them to a place today Lisbon never thought she’d be full stop never mind with her colleagues.
It was a club… of sorts. A place where the cost of memberships was sky high as they attracted a certain kind of clientele. “Now, now Lisbon. Are you blushing?” Jane teased her as they stood barely in the doorway of the main room. “It’s just a sex.” For some reason their victim had to have connections to a sex club.
It’s not like the patrons were actively having sex – intercourse or otherwise – in the very open space, but the whole place reeked of it. Not just with the smells but with the outfits, the leather, the forward flirting, and the suggestive artwork on the walls. It was the afternoon on a working day, yet the place was busy, with people looking for different things. “Sex doesn’t embarrass me.” Lisbon hissed at her consultant, quiet enough so the others couldn’t hear.
“Oh I know it doesn’t.” Flashbacks of their… rendezvous, in his thinking room last month came to her then. After she left, looking all dishevelled and her limbs like jelly, neither of them spoke of it. Not once. She was worried about awkwardness, but barely ten hours later they were stood over a rotting corpse like nothing had happened.
This was the first time either of them had mentioned it.
The club, which was all dark colours and easily wipeable surfaces, was quite possibly the most bizarre location to question witnesses. The owner provided several private rooms for the team to perform their questioning, none of them feeling very suitable considering the crime.
Lisbon dragged Cho into one of the rooms, deciding his stoic composure was what she needed when asking about murder in a room containing a bed and a sex swing. It was also a purposeful choice, ensuring she wasn’t left with Jane – he enjoyed teasing Rigsby in a separate room whilst Van Pelt spoke to some of the workers behind the bar.
Usually, when working away from home, they would then discuss the case over dinner somewhere greasy. They were all very keen to not do that after all they saw and learnt, no-one more than Lisbon.
It felt like some cruel joke, being in that club when her hormones were doing the best to not only make her horny but keep her there too. Why does she have to be ovulating? Why is that a thing that has to happen to her when she doesn’t plan to procreate any time soon and she doesn’t have a man to satisfy her? A sex club would never be her idea of a solution, but there was something about it that switched on her engine of need.
Before they left and they were back in the main room, she caught the gaze of a woman who was sitting in a booth wearing a faux leather tube top and a short, crushed velvet skirt, lipstick a deep red. A man’s hand was resting on the inside of her thigh, heading upwards while his other hand was snug around her neck as he trailed kisses down her jawline. She was breathing heavily, lips parted and pupils blown, and although it was hardly X-rated, Lisbon was watching someone get off before her very eyes.
When she forced her stare away, it landed on Jane instead who was leaning against the doorframe, waiting for the group to leave. He smirked – and that’s when she suggested them getting takeout from a sandwich shop that they passed, so she didn’t embarrass herself anymore.
Her food is long gone. She ate it while examining the case file, working out next moves, and then followed it with a cold shower. Yet still she’s practically vibrating. Lisbon huffs at herself, at her body, now wearing nothing but her favourite Chicago Bears jersey that reaches down to her mid-thigh. Going to bed feels like a safe move until she hits the pillows and the itch beneath her skin doesn’t relinquish.
Don’t do it, she thinks to herself, sitting up against the headboard with the room not being lit by anything but the rather dull bedside lamp.
Never in all her years as a member of a law enforcement has she even thought about masturbating in a crummy motel room, yet now her fingers are itching at the hem of her jersey.
A blush paints her cheeks, in fact it probably spreads right down to her chest, the shame sitting deep in her gut. A man is dead, and her team, they’re resting in this very building. It would be wrong, so wrong, to consider searching for pleasure… right? She blinks into the dark room as she muses this, thighs now pressed together as she seeks some kind of relief.
The devil on her shoulder is wrestling with the angel on her other and the light side is losing quickly. There will always be a dead body in the picture, that’s part of the job, and her team will always be around her. Why can’t she, this once, give into her urges? It will be a one off, she tells herself as she subconsciously glides an index finger down between her breasts, over her sternum, teasing even when clothed.
At the club, there was a man thumbing at a woman’s nipple through the lace of her bra until he became bashful at the presence of law enforcement and scuttled away, trying and failing to conceal the erection in his pants with his jacket.
Lisbon uses her thumb to play with her nipple through her jersey now, making it pucker against the material. It’s a small action in the grand scheme of things, but knowing it’s part of surrendering to her desires sets her skin quickly alight. She grabs more roughly then at her breast and then her other, kneading them while letting out a small groan that she attempts to conceal with a bite of her lip.
Her breasts are sensitive at the best of times, but at this point in her cycle they’re even more so and she loves touching them like this. It’s like an on button, with how fast she then becomes wet. A squeeze of one of her sensitive nubs makes her gush.
She wants to take the jersey off, she wants to expose herself fully in the cool air of the A/C covered room, but that’s too much of a risk. When on the job, she may be needed at a moment’s notice, and a knock on the door may switch the focus back to work. So she resists the urge – even if it feels nearly impossible.
Her hands continue to roam freely, her body writhing a little on the rough sheets, until her hand peeks below the hem of her jersey, finding her panties with two eager fingers. “Mmm…” Lisbon hums as she pushes the soaked material against her body. She realised they were already spoiled when she removed them for a shower, not quite believing that she got so worked up whilst on the job, now they’re completely wrecked.
Like she wants to be.
Her actions are hurried when she goes to remove them from her body, tugging them down her smooth legs before tossing them to the foot of the bed. Legs now spread, she not only strokes her inner thighs with her hand, but she also scrapes her nails along them, while her other hand continues to fondle her breasts.
It’s then that she pauses, wondering why she’s making such a show of it, trying to work herself up when she’s already definitely there. This shouldn’t be so indulgent. It’s a task more than anything, something that needs to happen so she sleeps easy and can get on with things tomorrow.
This is what she tells herself anyway. She lets her eyes flutter shut as she breathes out calmly, feeling her muscles relax into the bumpy mattress, as her fingers start to part her folds. There’s already traces of her juices, dripping down to her butt and she can’t help imagining someone licking it up.
But the someone in her mind isn’t just anyone or a faceless figure, it’s Jane staring up at her through her parted thighs. “No.” Lisbon mumbles and then makes a noise of frustration. “Not again.”
One rough, clumsy evening with Patrick Jane was all it took to rewire her brain. He seems to always be there in her mind now, whenever she searches for her own pleasure. It’s like he’s ruined her, but she’s not willing to accept that, because that would be tragic in its own right. It was a one-time thing, there’s no future there, not when he continues to be a distant asshole anyway. She brushes that thought to one side though and accepts her fate, knowing that tonight fake Jane will be guiding her to the edge until she cannot cum anymore.
Lisbon isn’t careful about her ministrations, she doesn’t teach herself a thing or two about patience, because she just needs to find release so she can put another episode behind herself. When she guides her fingers into her mouth to wet them, it’s his voice in her head telling her what to do.
A gasp escapes her when she slides them into her eager cunt. Lisbon clasps her other hand over her mouth, hoping that no-one heard her through these thin walls. She doesn’t know where the rest of her team’s rooms are… but none of them appeared to follow her out of the elevator.
So maybe it’s safer than she thought.
The two fingers disappear and then she’s setting a rhythm that immediately has her spine curving. Lisbon understands her body well enough to know what really gets her going: the twist of her hand, the curling of her digits, the tweaking of her nipple. It’s hard to stop the moans from tumbling from her lips – even if they are quiet.
In her mind, it’s Jane’s hands touching her like this, already completely attune to her body like she’s easy to pleasure. She knows otherwise, been witness to many a man trying to make her feel good and failing, but that evening in the CBI attic he just knew what to do. It was... infuriating really.
He would probably be rougher than this though, if she wanted him to be. Keeping her pinned to the bed with a strong arm across her naval, not two fingers but three rocking into her, the heel of his hand bumping her clit, all while his tongue-
A moan.
It’s not her moans but another coming through the evidently paper-thin walls. It makes her pause, knuckle-deep, but not withdraw. Is something getting off on… her getting off? The idea is repulsive, terrifying, and exhilarating all at once.
Lisbon – who had slouched down the pillows – shuffles further up to get closer to the wall, listening out for any further sounds. Nothing. Maybe it was in her head, she decides, resuming her task like nothing had even happened, letting her own noises fill the space.
Another moan.
She stills, not just because her theory has been proven right, but because she knows that moan. Its tone, its vibrato, the feeling it brings her when it tickles her ears. It’s Jane, he’s the man who’s finding her pleasure so enjoyable and the realisation turns her cheeks hot.
The audacity of that man is quite something. He’s hardly been the greatest partner recently and today he teased her when they were in the midst of a serious case, and now he’s masturbating while listening to her do the same. It’s obscene and a complete breaking of her trust – and yet she appears to be creating an even damper patch on her sheets as she involuntarily rolls her hips closer to her hand.
Lisbon tries to reason that it may not be him after all, it’s not like he followed her out of the elevator onto this floor… but now she thinks about, he wasn’t in the elevator at all because he wanted to explore near the motel. “Shit.” She curses, blaming the stage in her cycle once more before continuing in seeking her high.
It’s fine, she decides, because they’ve done a lot worse than this together.
The walls are so thin she thinks she can hear his fist beating at his cock, the one that she once had stuffed into her mouth. She remembers the taste of his pre-cum and the memory makes her drool as she imagines him spreading it around the tip as he strokes himself determinedly.
Before, she never really thought about Jane in a sexual light. She never thought about him entertaining people at his motel on the nights that he didn’t sleep at CBI. It wasn’t until Lorelei that it hit her that Patrick Jane is a hot-blooded man with needs and desires, and after experiencing some of those needs and desires, it’s hard to ignore that fact.
Her juices start to drip down her fingers as her fingers thrust into her, teasing her favourite spot, muscles clenching. She knows she’s getting louder but so is he as he jerks himself faster, the deep baritone of his groans most likely rumbling his chest. Lisbon wishes she could feel it, him, all of him.
She’s almost at her peak when suddenly all goes quiet.
It’s a little jarring actually and makes her movements slow as she listens out for wondering two things. Firstly, did he finish? And secondly, is he alright?
Lisbon listens closely, her ear practically pressed against the peeling wallpaper, still languidly stroking the sweet spot inside herself. When there is a sound, but of a door closing. Her heart rate is already pretty fast, but it speeds up as if she’s being put on high alert, thinking something might be wrong…
When there’s a knock on her door.
She sucks in a breath, completely stilling, fogged up brain wondering who that could be and if it’s him. Lisbon shakes her head, reminding herself that she’s at this motel for a reason and gets out of bed, pulling her jersey back down and wiping her hand on her sheets. Her bare feet padding along the floor are definitely louder than any sounds she could have and most definitely made, and she braces herself when she opens the door just wide enough for her face to come into view.
It is Jane standing on the other side, his pyjama pants hanging low on his hips, shirt that he wore that day on his body but left open like he had just hurriedly put it on. He was lying in bed most likely completely naked, she realises and he watches her gulp down nothing as this hits her. “Don’t overthink.” He tells her, pushing her door further open with a strong hand and uses his other to take hold of her wrist, pulling her back inside before letting her go.
“The others-”
“Not on this floor.” He interrupts, pushing the door shut. “I made sure of that.”
They pause then, gazes fused, both waiting for the other to make the next move. He can see how she’s almost vibrating, obviously not got to edge yet like she had wanted, and he knows he can be the one to get her there. Over and over tonight if she lets him. “You planned for this.” Lisbon murmurs, only now processing what he said.
“Not exactly planned.” He defends, letting his stare drag downwards now. Taking in the bite marks to her lips that have parted, her nipples poking through her jersey that only sits around the middle of her thigh, he can see her slick shimmering on the parts uncovered. “I saw how you got at the club, and you’re ovulating-”
“Who said I’m ovulating?”
“Lisbon, please.” Jane gives her a look that dares her to deny his intelligence and memory. Of course, he knows her cycle. “Did you manage to cum yet?” The question earns him a shiver, something that makes him smirk, but he can’t smirk for long – because he’s also ridiculously wound up.
She can see it now. The wideness of his pupils that are basically concealing all the blue in his eyes, the messiness to his curls like he’s ruffled them one time too many times, and the obvious tenting to his pants. It looks like she’s not the only one that hasn’t found her release yet.
This is wrong. They’re on a case, they’re partners, they work together, they have far too much history. “Take me to bed.” But still she finds herself husking this and Jane practically growls before drawing her in for a filthy kiss. The kind of kiss that’s all tongues fighting for dominance and teeth knocking together.
He hoists her up by her thighs and she wraps her legs around him, knowing that she will be making a mess of the front of his pants with her arousal, but forgetting that completely when the clothed head of his cock lodges against her wanting cunt. She yelps, he chuckles in the kiss, before dropping her on the bed.
Lisbon’s legs hang off the edge, feet barely flat on the ground, when he hitches the jersey up above her waist. It’s then that he spots her discarded panties near her head and he grins, picking them up off the sheets and holding them close to his face so he can inspect them. “It’s amazing you managed to get through the day.”
“Hush.” She groans, covering her face with her hands out of embarrassment.
“I saw how you looked at some of those people.” He continues, hiding the underwear in the pocket of his pyjamas while she can’t see. “Judgement but also curiosity.” Lisbon hears him drop to his knees before he pries her legs apart, and she removes the hands from her face to ensure her ears aren’t deceiving her. Is he…? “Were you thinking about those people as you… touched yourself?”
“Jane.” She warns.
“I don’t think you were.” A breath hitches in her throat, wondering if he really is actually psychic and he’s been lying to her all this time. How could he know that he was thinking of her? But thankfully, he doesn’t say it outright, maybe because he’s scared about what it could mean. “You smell divine.”
Lisbon’s breathing quickens when she feels his tongue drag over her, her heart nearly bursting out of her chest at the contact. She opens her legs wider, one fist balling in the sheets while her other hand weaves into his curls, not wanting him to move a muscle. “You taste amazing.” He praises, the comment making her soak his chin.
Jane starts off slow, tongue teasing her clit, tip circling it before down to her entrance. He sucks some of her copious wetness into his mouth and swallows it down before prodding the damp muscle into her. “Shit.” Lisbon moans, clamping down on him as her fingers scratch his scalp. “God Jane…”
“Not quite.” He teases, but she can’t be mad when his nose starts to nudge at her clit.
He swirls and licks, the pace and pressure reminding her of the few kisses they have shared. She bucks into his face and feels a flutter in her lower abdomen, her chest arching when he sucks her deeper into him. It’s almost frustrating that he’s an expert at this as well, and her being worried about him ruining her for other men, is becoming increasingly more prevalent.
As Lisbon's moans become louder, Jane increases his pace, his tongue working feverishly. The sensations are overwhelming, and she can’t keep still as she bucks into him again and again, a loud wail escaping her when he sucks his clit hard.
It’s effortless, sliding two of his fingers inside, curling them in a way that has her seeing stars immediately. Lisbon convulses around him, and she cries out when he licks over her clit, flicking his tongue over her nub in synch with the fingers stroking her cunt. “J-Jane…” She stammers, thighs quivering either side of his head.
She’s fighting a losing a battle, trying to hold off and not let go too quickly, but with the club and how worked up she was before this moment, it’s impossible. And with a final lap of his tongue and a twist of his fingers, he feels her flutter around him, a flood of wetness soaking his hand as her orgasm hits her hard, moans becoming so strained and high-pitched that it becomes evident that she has completely lost the ability to pretend that she isn’t turned on by him.
When Jane crawls up her body to kiss her neck, his face shiny with her release, Lisbon feels like she’s boneless with every muscle in her body relaxed. “That was better than listening to you moan through the wall.” He taunts, hands skimming her side, plotting his next move.
“So you were listening.” She mumbles breathlessly, chest rising and falling dramatically.
“How could I not?” Lisbon can hear the smug smile in his voice even as she looks up at the ceiling, attempting to catch her breath. “It made me crazy.” But this he says in a way that’s much lighter almost airy, as if it’s a thought that has escaped him more than he meant to say it. It makes her lift her head to look at him but he’s already shaking his, trying to rid himself of what has just popped into his mind.
Jane catches her gaze then and paints a wicked grin on his features as he utters, “I hope you don’t think I’m done with you.” Lisbon squeaks as he abruptly tugs her to her feet, acting like he isn’t taking any care but the arm that wraps around her waist to stop her from toppling says otherwise. Tomorrow morning when she’s woken by her alarm and she has some time to think clearly, she will realise that it’s all a façade while he’s on the otherwise of the wall with vow not to go there with her again.
Now though he’s pulling her football jersey up over her head, chucking it to the bed leaving her completely bare for him. He performs a sweeping glance of her that’s so quick that most wouldn’t be able to notice much in that time, whereas he manages to catalogue the sight of her in his memory palace for safe keeping. “Beautiful.” The compliment slips out before he can stop it and she raises her brow, a little thrown by the different kind of directness.
“You think?” She whispers, head falling forward slightly so that her hair forms a curtain to mask her blushes.
Jane hesitates, the little voice in the back of his head screaming at him to make excuses, but how can he? Not when she’s standing before him like she’s stepped out of Sandro Botticelli’s ‘Birth of Venus’ painting. Teresa Lisbon is without a doubt one of the most stunning women he’s ever laid eyes on – but he feels like he shouldn’t be allowed to lay eyes on her for long. “Of course.” But that doesn’t mean he’s going to pretend that she doesn’t have an air of a goddess about her.
Lisbon smiles sweetly, tucking a strand of her dark hair behind her ear as she opens her mouth to form a reply. A reply that he can’t bring himself to hear. So he doesn’t give the chance, he exaggeratedly whips off his shirt and drops it to the floor before keeping her lips busy with his own.
She feels him lead her somewhere, but the kiss has made her dizzy, so she isn’t quite sure where until her back hits the wall. When he trails his tongue under her ear and down her neck, she regains her sense of direction and realises he has her pushed against the wall between their two rooms. The one that he was listening to her moans through – and the reminder of that is very sexy.
She moans again when he starts to nibble at her earlobe, bottom lip dragging through her teeth as her hands sneak downwards so she can release him from his pyjama pants. It isn’t a surprise that he’s not wearing any underwear considering what he was doing to himself before he knocked on her door, it also isn’t a surprise that he’s already rock hard and leaking at the tip.
Her mouth salivates at the thought of tasting him again, salty and a little bit sweet like her favourite popcorn seasoning, but he’s already turning her around, pressing her cheek against the wall before he creates a safety net of her hands flat against the surface. “Need to protect that pretty face of yours.” Jane murmurs, sliding her hands down slightly and pulling her hips back so her butt sticks out a little.
Lisbon hears the movement of skin as he seems to give his hardness a few strokes, waking it up even though it’s awake enough as it is. But then she gasps quietly, feeling the tip of it prodding at her slick cunt as he lines himself up. Her next gasp is a lot louder when he impales her in one smooth thrust, filling her completely. “Fuck!” She cries out, her back arching as he strokes a hand down her spine.
“Language, Lisbon.” Jane mockingly scolds and she has no retort, not when she feels winded by just one rock of his hips.
He doesn’t work her up slowly, he doesn’t start with shallow ruts and then build into something bigger. With his hands now firmly holding her breasts for some kind of leverage, he withdraws so much that barely his tip is still inside her, before slamming back into her, repeating the motion rapidly. “Oh yes… yes… yes…” Lisbon deliriously chants.
“This is what I wanted to do when I was listening to you moan like the good girl you are.” Jane laughs, sounding a little breathless. “I hope this wall is sturdy.”
“H-Harder…”
“You want it harder?”
“Please.”
Jane obliges, his thrusts becoming faster and harder, the force of their bodies causing the stock art pictures on the wall to rattle. Lisbon pushes towards him, meeting his movements with her own, chasing her high as he buries himself deep again and again. “I saw you today.” He manages to say in between grunts and moans. “Saw what got your attention.”
He then proceeds to describe – in detail and surprisingly coherently – what he saw that she was drawn to in the club. The patrons in collars and chains, hands round necks whilst making out, ropes and restraints in the private rooms. There was an element of curiosity, but the flush she was experiencing wasn’t embarrassment, well, not only embarrassment. It was need as well.
“I wrongly assumed something about you.” Jane continues. “I assumed you would be more dominant in bed but my dear you love being dominated, don’t you?”
The question is sort of jarring. It reminds her, if only briefly, who she is, who he is, where they are, and what they’re doing. It’s wrong. She knows it is, but she also hates that he believes that she has everything about her pegged. Sexual preferences and all. “I want to ride you. P-Please.” Jane chuckles at this, finding it amusing that she’s clearly now overcompensating, trying not to seem too submissive.
But she mistakenly said please. “Hm.” He hums, giving her breasts a squeeze with his warm hands. “If you want to use your energy up…” Is all he says before pulling out of her, evidence of their arousal dripping to the floor.
They end up dragging each other to the bed, both of them fighting to lead, lips rough against each other. For a moment, he loses the battle and is pushed to the mattress, but when he shuffles further up the bed to lean against the headboard, he’s tugging her with him, maybe to get one up of her. “You’re infuriating.” She mumbles.
“I know.” And then she’s sliding back down on his length, her hands planted firmly against his chest whilst he grips her hips so tight his fingertips may leave bruises. Lisbon wouldn’t mind that. Something to look at in the tall mirror in her bedroom back in Sacramento.
She may be the one setting the pace, riding him like a woman on a mission, rolling her hips in a way that makes the angle perfect at stimulating the special spot inside her, but Jane also has his own level of control. His hangs bringing her firmly down as he thrusts up into her.
The room is probably the noisiest place in the motel. It’s all grunts and slaps and moans while the bed squeaks beneath them. It is also definitely fortunate that his is the room on the other side of the wall that the headboard is against because of how much it bangs on the plaster.
Jane knows Lisbon is getting close by how her cunt flutters around him and how needy her moans become. So he wraps both arms around her to bring her impossibly closer to him, the fresh position putting perfect pressure on her clit. “F-Fuck.” She stutters, head falling forward onto his shoulder.
“Hm.” He hums, clearly amused. “You like that, Teresa?” Her first name sounds sultry on his tongue and almost mocking, even if he doesn’t mean it to come across in that way.
Lisbon shrugs off his hold to lay her hands on the mattress instead, trying to get the leverage to get herself over the line even if he’s not quite there yet. She catches the smirk that ghosts his lips, like he’s glad to have rattled her, but that just makes her try harder, so much harder that her butt jiggles a little as she fucks herself on him.
But then he puts his hand around her throat.
There’s a sharp intake of breath from above him when he does, not because of the pressure being hard but because it’s unexpected. He saw how he looked at that couple making out in the club, how aroused she became at the image of the man’s hand being around the woman’s neck, and he silently made it his mission to be able to bestow that onto her, because it’s clearly not only something she wanted but needed as well.
Lisbon’s gaze meets his own, mouth agape now as she breathes through her pleasure, her pupils blown wide. There’s something vulnerable in the way they stare at each other, something unique that neither of them could name even if they wanted to. It’s not that they don’t want to, it’s that they can’t, not right now, not yet and maybe not ever.
Sensing a heaviness fall on them as their movements don’t slow, Jane squeezes at her neck slightly, not at all dangerously but it makes her moan louder as she gushes around him. “Knew it.” Is all he has to comment for her to know there’s no coming back from this. Patrick Jane will forever have the knowledge that she’s like a bit of domination in bed, and tomorrow they will have to resume the case like that penny hasn’t dropped.
But they have this for now, she chooses to focus on, as she joins their lips together once more, feeling how he’s pulsing as if ready to burst. He almost growls when she purposely clenches, knowing she’s not far off stumbling over the edge into pure, euphoric bliss.
Neither of them wants it to end really. Not tonight or in the future, but it has to, and their bodies are betraying them, racing them over the line.
It’s Lisbon who peaks first, losing control of her body as she cries out ‘Patrick’, quivering and shaking as Jane takes the lead, rutting up into her, wanting to prolong her pleasure for as long as possible. He’s not far behind though, his cock throbbing so intensely it’s like it has its own heartbeat, one that belongs to her.
They make quite a mess, one that she will be sleeping in tonight. She floods him while he fills her, huffing and panting and grunting, trying to milk every last drop not just literally but figuratively as well.
As soon as he removes his hand from her throat, she collapses against him as if his hold was the only thing keeping her propped up. She hadn’t realised how exhausted she was and now she can’t hide it, not caring that she feels shamefaced as he carefully rolls her off his sweaty chest and snakes an arm around her shoulders instead. It feels like they’re creeping into a different kind of territory, one with feelings and emotions, but in the post-coital glow of their pleasure, that doesn’t seem to bother them like they should.
Jane kisses the top of her head as if it’s very normal as Lisbon snuggles further into his side. His voice is slightly hoarse when he finally breaks the silence, “Maybe you’re more of a bad girl than a good girl… either is fine with me.”
And that’s that – because it has to be.