Title: Noises Above
Author: art_and_lies84
Pairing: Jane / Maura
Rating: Probably NC-17
A/N: Don't own 'em. Also, this would not be possible without my beta, heartsways. She dutifully read draft after draft and, I imagine, will be the first to complain about how this turned out…
The neighbors complained about the noises above. Maura Isles knew this because she had seen the imploring notes they left on Jane's door: silly requests such as "Please put carpet down" and "Another late night, eh?" One was even so bold as to congratulate Jane on her obvious prowess. Really, it would be more convenient, not to mention less difficult socially, for them to conduct their affair at Maura's house.
But Jane could be stubborn about things like this. Her temperament, often volatile and explosive, did not allow for much negotiation in these situations. She wanted to sleep at her own house that evening. She had absolutely and quite without reason refused to visit Maura. Maura had finally resorted to the guise of delivering beer and doggie treats to secure an invitation.
She was fairly certain that the neighbors would complain once again tomorrow morning, given her plan. She had it in mind, this evening, to prove Jane Rizzoli wrong about an item of contention between them and she suspected that in doing so Jane might become rather vocal. It bothered her only insomuch as she did not enjoy knowing that the inhabitants on both adjoining floors, not to mention the tenants on either side of Jane's apartment, could hear them. Her exploits were to be shared only with Jane.
A raucous crash sounded through the door just as Maura lifted her unencumbered hand to knock. "Jane?" she called. She heard another muffled crash, followed by a string of curses, then a yelp. She called Jane's name at full volume, knocking frantically.
"Yeah, yeah! Coming! Hold on!"
"What happened?" she asked a few moments later when Jane opened the door to let her in. The detective was out of breath and covered in a white, powdery substance. If Maura had to guess – which she never would, not even if Jane offered her completely unrestricted access to her body and a whole drawer full of toys – she would say it was flour. However, as fresh flour had no detectible scent and she wasn't about to put an unidentified substance in her mouth, she decided to wait until evidence confirmed her secret suspicion.
"I… I threw something at the T.V. The Sox were just shut out by the Giants," Jane said, out of breath. She wiped at her face as Maura stepped past her into the living room, suppressing a smile at the white caking on her. The woman was just hopeless. Her only saving grace was that she did not spend her money on high fashion; everything would be ruined within a week.
Maura's eyes swept over the next room. She took note of an overturned throw pillow on the floor, several magazines scattered on an end table, and four curiously empty beer bottles. Jane had not mentioned drinking already when Maura had offered to bring beer, and she did not want to conduct her plan with an inebriated Jane. Still, it was entirely possible that the bottles were a remnant of a previous evening's adventure. The detective was a notorious slob.
"So, you threw something at the T.V.?"
Jane nodded, reddening under the haze on her face.
"And that resulted in your being covered in –" Maura waved her finger incriminatingly at Jane's upper half "- whatever this is… how?"
"Jo Friday."
"Jo Friday, what?"
"She chased it-"
"Chased what?"
"The ball I threw!"
Maura gave Jane a look that she hoped would convey her disapproval. "Really, Jane," she said. "You can't expect to throw a ball in the house and have Jo Friday not pursue it. Terriers have an overdeveloped sense of the hunt. They were bred for it."
"Yeah, I get that now," Jane grumbled as she pushed Maura towards the kitchen. "It's flour, by the way."
"Where did the flour come from?" she asked, simultaneously pleased that her suspicion had been confirmed and disturbed that she had a suspicion in the first place. She observed the bag leaking lucklessly all over the kitchen floor. The dog lay next to the mess, nose buried happily in it, chomping away. Maura leaned down to give her a scratch behind the ears, then set the six-pack and bag of treats on the counter.
"It was sitting on top of the fridge. Jo ran into it and the bag fell."
"Onto you," Maura pointed out. It looked as if Jane had taken as much of the mess as the floor had. Normally dark twists of hair were infused with the substance. Long, rich lashes sent out mini whooshes of the stuff with every blink.
"Yes," Jane said. She smiled sheepishly.
Maura returned a wide smile. Jane was exquisite, even sullied. "Your propensity for accidents is disturbing, Jane," she said, still peering around the room.
Jane huffed and ran a hand through her hair. Maura, in a moment of what she knew was inexplicable fear, leapt back as a cloud of white erupted around the other woman. It would not do to get flour all over her dress. She had just picked it up from the dry cleaner's the day before.
Jane gave her a confounded glare and marched pointedly towards the bathroom. Maura waited until she heard the water switch on before returning to the entryway and placing her purse carefully underneath the piano bench. She took a seat upon it, crossed her ankles, set her hands delicately in her lap, and thought about the woman in the shower.
In addition to wanting to sleep in her own bed most of the time, Jane was stubborn about a number of other things. At the onset of their sexual relationship she had confided in Maura that she was really very conventional in the bedroom. It wasn't that she hadn't experienced several of the more inventive positions, or partners; Jane insisted that she had tried many things with both men and women, but that she was perfectly happy when it came to her sex life with Maura. That she did not want things to change.
The M.E. suspected that given Jane's penchant for shielding Maura – sometimes to the point of keeping her in the dark altogether – Jane was really more concerned with exposing Maura to practices that she would be uncomfortable with. Or corrupting her.
Maura smiled at the thought. Corruption was such a relative term; it was imprecise, one of those English words that was so thick with meaning, yet absolutely empty all at once. Corruption could only truly apply to the persuasion of those in power, or possibly to describe putrefaction. It most certainly could not apply to Maura herself – not in this case.
Maura had asked about toys one evening. Jane shook her head forcefully in response. "No, no toys. It seems… It seems wrong. Impersonal."
No amount of discussion could influence Jane. The woman was convinced that artificial aids in sexual acts were a form of cheating. It perplexed Maura to no end. When Maura had asked Jane to elaborate, she'd said in a whisper, "I just don't want to, Maura! If I can't get it with my hands and my tongue, I'm not doing it right!"
"But Jane, that's not the point. You are completely capable with just your hands and tongue," Maura said bluntly. "Your sexual experience could be vastly improved; relative to your experiences with me, you could sustain prolonged and more intense orgasms with the addition of a phallus. Do you know how rare it is for a woman to orgasm vaginally as frequently as you do? Biologically speaking, I can't provide the same sensations that a man can. Wouldn't you like to try other things?"
"We did try other things!" Jane protested.
"Yes. You didn't like that?"
Had Jane not liked it? She seemed like she had at the time. That navy scarf had certainly made more than one guest appearance in the bedroom since that night.
"Aw, Maura, you know I did," Jane said in a voice perilously close to a whine. "Do we have to talk about this right now? I mean, Jesus… Can't we just enjoy what we have?"
"Yes, Jane."
She had left it at that, at the time. But the plot was hatched, and Maura Isles knew she could not leave it be forever.
Maura's revelry was cut short by a mostly-naked, sauntering Jane, cleaned of the flour and toweling her hair in what appeared to be an unintentionally provocative display. She traced her eyes down the woman's lithe body, aware of a tightening in her chest and a hitch in her breathing. Strong, athletic shoulders capped a proportionally perfect ribcage; barely-there breasts rode high on her chest before they gave way to a flat stomach that tapered into luxurious thighs; a slight flare of the hips and buttocks accentuated her athletic form. What a specimen Jane was.
"What?" Jane asked when she caught Maura's eyes roaming all over her. "Did I miss some?"
"No," Maura said and shook her head slightly. She reached forward and gently tugged Jane in front of her and pressed her face into the warmth of the other woman's torso, breathing in the air of her.
"You didn't come over here to bring me beer, did you," Jane stated quietly. She shivered slightly as Maura's hands wrapped around her and skimmed down her buttocks. The towel promptly fell to the floor.
"No, I didn't," Maura agreed. She worked her fingertips between Jane's legs from her buttocks and brushed lightly there. "Are you angry?"
It was an honest question. Maura could never be entirely sure unless Jane told her.
"Of course not," Jane hissed as she leaned to work her hands beneath the edge of Maura's dress. Jane always strove for nudity first. Maura suspected that her impatience stemmed from a hatred of any and all barriers in her life. She was hell-bent on ripping them all to pieces… as, Maura thought with growing alarm, she seemed to be with this dress. She hastily swatted the other woman's hands away and carefully unzipped the dress herself, then stood to remove it.
Before it reached the floor to join the discarded towel in a haphazard pile, Jane swept her up in a whirlwind kiss. It spoke volumes of the dark woman's desires. Maura thought she tasted frustration there, and maybe a touch of apprehension. She had learned to appreciate the many forms of telling that Jane's kisses visited upon her. And, she considered, she had become adept in interpreting these kisses. The kisses gave Maura a reprieve from the constant decoding of emotion. Jane was nothing if not straightforward when she reached a certain state of arousal.
This kiss requested domination. The tentative press of Jane's tongue against her lips, the gentle splay of fingertips on her back working to release her bra, the quiet grind of the bowl of hips against hers all indicated that Jane did not want control this evening.
Maura could not have been more thrilled. She did not like to think that she had manipulated Jane into submission to get her way, so when Jane willingly handed over the reins, she happily took them. She allowed Jane a few more moments to remove the rest of her clothing, then wrapped her hands around Jane's shoulders and pushed her down to sit on the bench. She took a deep breath and knelt in front of the other woman.
Maura placed her palms on the inside of Jane's thighs and applied steady pressure there, slowly, slowly pushing her legs apart and spreading her wide. When Jane was angry, or unsure – when Maura knew she felt these things because Jane told her outright – Maura found that it was best to move in measured steps so as not to startle her. If Jane was startled, she would bolt. She was a flighty creature, drawn from wildness and freedom, only Maura's as long as she did not realize that she was being captured.
She watched Jane's face as she opened her with her thumbs. Indicators of arousal abounded: her zygomaticus majors were drawn, creating a tight plane of want over her features. Her frontalis and corrugator muscles contracted in a mixture of concern and need. A rush of blood swam over her olive skin and spread up her long neck into her cheeks.
But Maura did not need these indicators. Her tongue moved through all the evidence of arousal she would ever need. Jane moaned and leaned into the piano behind her, apparently indifferent to the tinkling of the keys against her back.
It was not something Maura would have ignored; she could no more have let the keys sound against her than she could fabricate a lie without fainting. It was too distracting. The sounds would jar her. They would snap her out of her want and into the reality of having sex on a piano bench. It was all Maura could do not to stop the movement of her mouth against Jane to suggest that they relocate to the bedroom. She had some idea that doing so would ruin "the moment" – at least, that is what she believed Jane would say.
Instead she pressed her tongue further. It was not enough for Jane. This never was. Soon Jane would ask her for manual stimulation.
Almost as if on cue, Jane grabbed Maura's right hand and pressed it roughly against her. It usually did not progress this quickly, Maura reflected, even after Jane had had a few beers. She slid her fingers deep into the other woman and delighted in the rush of hot breath that washed over her shoulder as Jane curled forward.
The next moments would be crucial. She had to be sure that Jane did not reach orgasm, not yet, but she wanted the other woman right on the edge. Maura stilled her fingers and waited for Jane to straighten back against the piano again before making the speech that she had been planning for weeks:
"I want to… I want to fuck you, Jane," she said, pushing the last syllables out in a rush of air against Jane's thigh. She felt the other woman stop writhing immediately as her body went rigid. The stiffening of muscles was consistent with surprise, or fear. Had Maura been able to guess, she would have chosen the former.
"I want to … to fuck you, and I don't want to do it with my hands," Maura breathed. The words were difficult for her to speak aloud, but they were words that Jane would understand, and Jane would need that familiarity if she was going to submit completely. This was all so complicated. If Jane could just try to think about things logically for a moment, she would realize that what Maura was suggesting was the shortest possible route to satisfaction.
"What are you talking about?" Jane asked. Her voice broke and she shook with the obvious effort of trying to remain upright. She was so beautiful, her Jane. Maura watched her long fingers flex and release, flex and release around the edge of the wooden bench in agitation. She knew she didn't have much time before Jane devolved into total annihilative pleading.
With her free hand Maura reached into her purse beneath the piano. She withdrew the strap-on and set it next to Jane. The phallus was unassuming. She had chosen something that would not be frightening. Not that Jane shied away from being filled completely, but Maura did not want some monstrosity; she wanted to be delicate, soft, and commanding. She still wanted to be a woman while enjoying Jane. And most of all, she wanted her hands free to do with what she pleased.
Maura appreciated how it looked there next to Jane's leg before glancing upwards to meet the other woman's eyes and pressing her face back into her thigh. She breathed in the warm headiness there.
"Let me, Jane," she spoke against firm flesh. "Please." She hoped that her voice was soothing. She did not want to startle Jane. She did not want to "ruin the moment" as she had so many times before.
"Yes, Maura, fine," Jane growled.
"Fine? That's not exactly a resounding approval, Jane."
"If you don't do it, I will," Jane said. She bucked her hips and highlighted her need once again. It was what Maura required. She carefully withdrew her fingers and watched Jane watch her as she licked them clean. Jane had explained to her once that this simple action – this one little thing – aroused her more than any touch ever could. Maura did not necessarily understand it herself, but she did enjoy the obvious pleasure that Jane took in watching her do it.
She stood and pecked Jane once on the lips, smiling to herself at the groan the other woman gave her when she did not deepen the kiss. "Patience," she tsked and turned to put the apparatus on. It didn't take long. Maura had practiced at home.
When she turned back it was to a reclining Jane, spread across the length of the bench like a sacrificial offering. Her dark eyes were huge, her chest heaving. The flush had spread past her nipples and now threatened her navel. She was lovely. Maura wanted her. Maura wanted her beyond reason and doubt and pain. She wanted her beyond her own caged sense of self and beyond Jane's colossal sense of freedom.
Maura lowered herself onto Jane. She nestled their torsos together, careful to keep her hips from settling completely. Jane gasped, likely due to the phallus rubbing against her, Maura was sure. She pressed her face close and kissed the detective, usually so strong, now reduced to jerking movements below her. It could have been a moment of extreme awkwardness, what with Maura precariously perched above Jane, bearing down in some places, barely touching in others. She was grateful it was not. At that moment nothing seemed more natural than this: the two of them expressing a mutual desire, a base need.
Maura propped herself on one hand and reached down to tug on Jane's left leg. She gently drew the long limb over her right shoulder and let it rest there, kissing the calf as it slid towards her neck. The texture of Jane's skin, deliciously smooth against her own, made her sigh.
Jane was completely open to her. Her hands were free to roam. This had all gone better than she could have hoped.
Maura hugged the limb to her chest and pushed into her.