Waterlogged

A/N: This arose from a Tumblr post from RizzyandIzzy: "A part of me wants to read a fic where Jane and Maura have… lackluster sexytimes. Not horrible, but not great. Is that wrong of me?" No. Not wrong at all. Thanks!

Somewhere out in the Atlantic, a tropical storm churned up tons of water, and inundated New England with torrential rain. Six days. Basements were flooded. Some streets were impassible, including Maura's, which was closed at both ends because it was a small river; the storm sewers couldn't handle the load.

It didn't matter. Nobody had been home for one-hundred and twenty hours. Five days straight. It seemed the rain brought out the worst in Boston's gangs. Or maybe it was this one street, that was a prime market for dope, and the Irish Westies and the Colombian Lobos were piling up bodies in their attempt to control it. The Westies were pretty straightforward; the ten Colombians we'd swept up all died of gunshot wounds. The Colombians were more vindictive. Eight bodies, hands cut off, throats slit. Maura was kept busy; she was snatching short naps in her office between body deliveries. I was sleeping standing up, living on coffee and McDonald's while we tried to get the killers who were fueling this war. Before some civilian got caught in the crossfire.

I was soaked through all the time. Every meeting with a CI was in the rain, some doorway somewhere, or some coffee shop that you had to swim through the street to get to.

The case broke on Thursday, when three Lobos shot a Westie captain and cops happened to be in earshot. They were caught with the guns still smoking, and rolled on their boss, who tried to shoot it out with a SWAT team and got killed by a sniper for his bravado. The war stopped on a dime.

Cavanaugh sent everybody home with orders not to come back until Monday. Maura's titular boss, the Secretary of Public Safety , told her and her staff the same thing.

Climbing the stairs to my apartment was like climbing Everest. I'd never been so bone tired. Maura neither, to look at her; she looked like a blonde raccoon with the dark circles under her eyes.

We hadn't touched each other since last Saturday. The first item on the agenda was catching up.

We had clothes off in short order; seeing Maura's naked body was wonderful. Even dead-beat tired, she was gorgeous. Even dead-beat tired, I wanted her.

We got into bed. All I wanted was to feel her silky skin, touch her, hear her gasp as she climaxed. We came together gently, as if our tired bodies were fragile, we might crush each other.

Her kisses got to me; I could feel the moist warmth rise, as her nipples hardened under my hand. She reached down, began stroking me, gently; It felt good, but as she continued I realized the fire wasn't quite there. Her touch became more languid, and she seemed to be drifting off into sleep even as she aroused me.

"Hey, honey, this isn't going anywhere. You want to try something else?"

"Mmnh?" Her eyes opened. "Yeah...sure. Tongue?"

"That's always good."

But it wasn't. Oh, it felt good, warm and close, as she licked and sucked expertly. But my body seemed to have other priorities. I repeatedly found myself jerking back to consciousness, even as Maura's mouth and hands sent happy electricity all through me. It just wasn't enough to put me over the edge.

Honestly, I wasn't even close.

"Hey, sweetie, let's switch, I'll do you." The last word was moaned through a massive yawn. Maura smirked. "I can see you're wildly enthusiastic." The smirk turned into a smile when I said, "Sarcasm. You're an apt pupil. I should never have encouraged you."

But it was a futile pursuit. Maura wasn't quite as tired, but she was tense, and, after constant exposure to violent death, more than a little morbid. Our usual great sex was clearly not on the agenda tonight.

After trying several more positions – neither of us were willing to admit it wasn't happening – we gave up, saying we'd take a break and try again in a little while. I lay on my back, and she snuggled into my shoulder; I stroked gentle circles on her bare back.

"I'm sorry." She whispered into the folds of my neck.

"You don't have to be."

"I don't like to leave you unsatisfied."

"Maura, It's okay. Everything...everything we do together is a...gift. A bonus."

"What do you mean?"

"You give me so much more than I ever had before. Life before knowing you was so bare. Empty."

"I just want you to enjoy...me. what we do in bed."

"I do. It doesn't always have to be fireworks, baby. Just knowing that I can kiss you. Touch you there..." I put a hand on Maura's breast. "Or there..." I stroked the inside of her thigh, up to her sex, the moist folds. "Just knowing you welcome it, that I'm desired, that I can make you feel these things. That makes me feel like...someone very special. Just knowing you want me makes me so much...more."

She started to tear up, and I was sorry I made her want to cry. I brushed the tears away with the back of my fingers. "C'mon. It's wet enough outside. You don't need to turn on the raindrops in here."

"No", she said. "That's... that's the sweetest, loveliest thing anyone's ever said to me. Do you know how long I did without that...without anyone understanding that all I wanted was to give that to someone? And you...you get it. You do."

"I think I do." I put both arms around her, as far as I could; her body melted against mine, every peak and valley matching perfectly.

The pouring, roaring rain, against my window, instead of a sound full of menace, had become a lullaby.