Title: Feel Like A Woman
Rating: Brace yourselves. I'm trying something new and writing an M fic. (Yes, that was sarcasm you were reading.)
Summary: Funny how being with Maura makes her feel more feminine.
Disclaimer: Despite the fact that Jane is practically living at Maura's house, they wanted to adopt a baby, and they bicker like my parents, Rizzles is not yet official. And that is how you all know that I own jack shit.
Thin, gentle fingers tripped down her skin, making her shiver violently. Said fingers seemed oblivious to her plight, continuing to move leisurely.
"Shit, Maura." Jane forced the words past her gritted teeth, her jaw clenched so tightly she was a little concerned they might need to pry them apart later. "Hurry. Up."
"But why, Jane?" Maura's large eyes appeared innocent, but sparkled deep within with devious mirth. "Delaying your climax only serves to heighten your orgasm, as I have proven on multiple occasions."
"That's just an excuse to be a fucking tease." Jane replied, each word bitten off savagely at the end, like a mouthful of offensively bitter food.
Maura only hummed, placing her lips repeatedly over Jane's well-toned stomach, parting her lips and pressing her tongue against the hot skin. Jane allowed herself to arch into the touch. She'd always had to hold back, never show how much someone affected her, but with Maura she felt safe letting go and giving into the sensations.
She should have seen it coming, but it always startled her – one moment Maura was lapping slowly at her skin, not a care in the world, and the next she was latching onto her clit like the M.E. was going to die otherwise.
"Shit Maur!" Jane arched violently, scrabbling for purchase and managing to twist the sheets between her fingers.
Maura flicked her tongue along Jane's clit, lapping at her entrance. The barely-still-coherent part of Jane's brain realized that the sheets were in danger of tearing, so she ran her hands through Maura's silky hair, the honey locks twisting around and intertwining through her fingers. After giving Jane a few seconds to adjust, Maura slipped in a finger, curling it slightly and making the detective gasp again. It took a couple excruciating minutes of teasing before Maura deigned to add a second and, finally, third finger to the mix. Her pace quickened and slowed, a rhythm to a song that only Maura knew, taking Jane to the brink but never letting her spill over.
Jane had been with guys who liked control, who were confident in their abilities, but it was different with Maura. The ME was just as – if not more – confidant then any guy Jane had been with, and she knew what she was doing; but what was more, she knew Jane. And for some reason, Maura taking control and making her come undone made Jane feel empowered and feminine in ways that men never had. She didn't understand it – hell, the first time it happened she'd nearly had a breakdown – but she'd learned to accept it.
It was funny, really, how…
"Holy fuck!" Jane screeched, unable to stop the undignified cry as Maura pressed a thumb down on her clit. Jane writhed uncontrollably, twisting and arching as if her body were trying to escape its impending fate. Maura's hands kept her pinned, the pads of her fingers pressing down into the skin of her thighs so hard they were sure to leave tiny round bruises, like spots on a Dalmatian. She continued to work Jane through the shuddering ascent to climax, carefully and methodically lapping up as much as she could. Even in this Maura was annoyingly thorough.
When the stars stopped tap-dancing across the back of her eyelids and she could actually breathe again, Jane found Maura grinning at her like she'd eaten a dozen canaries.
"You're too damn smug." Jane panted.
Maura hummed again, slithering up to give Jane a moist peck on the lips. "It helps when you're so easy."
Jane growled, snaking her arms around Maura's waist and flipping them. "Who's easy?" She demanded.
Maura giggled uncontrollably.
Later on, the sheets tangled around her legs and Maura curled up against her side, Jane lay there, idly gazing up into the dark void that was her ceiling. She sifted her fingers through Maura's honey-cinnamon locks, letting them twist and curl around her hand.
It was funny, really, that Maura, a woman, could make her feel more feminine. She felt so free and light and true, instead of a shoddy imitation. Maura celebrated her. Maura loved every girly and not-girly thing about her. She didn't have to prove herself around Maura. She didn't have to be extra tough to play with the big boys, or pretend to be girly so that men would want her. She could just be Jane Rizzoli, and Maura would welcome her. Around Maura, she felt like a woman. She felt safe.
She felt…
"Go 't seep." Maura murmured, her voice thick and groggy, the words ghosting in warm breaths over Jane's abdomen. "'ave work 'morrow…"
"I know, babe." Jane chuckled, settling down. "I'm going to sleep now."
Maura smiled contentedly, her grip on Jane tightening just a fraction. Jane smiled hopelessly.
With Maura, she felt loved.
Have you all heard the phrase "Butch on the streets, femme between the sheets"? I honestly think that's how Jane and Maura are. Maura's so confident with her femininity and sexuality, I get the feeling she'd be the more commanding one in bed. (At first, anyway.)
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