Author's Note:

No copyright infringement intended. Fictional characters owned by others.

All other characters and inanimate objects appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Maura snaps her fingers and pumps her fists as she impatiently shifts her weight between her feet. "Come on Jane! I've been waiting to feel the power between my legs, the rumble under my thighs." She looks at the detective with those damn sparkling hazel eyes. "I want to lean into the corners and feel as we meld into one being."

"Okay…hold on there, Evel Knievel." Jane pushes her palms down and tries to calm the exuberant smaller woman. "Not until I check these cables to make sure they are okay."

Maura nods her head and paces in front of Jane, who is crouched down in front of Maura's newest purchase.

"Fuck!" Jane mumbles under her breath for the third time in a matter of minutes. She rubs at the new scrape on her left knuckle. "It's a god damn metric nut, Maura. Give me the other set of wrenches."

She should have figured that out after the wrench slips off the throttle cable adjuster the first time. But the sight of Maura floating around her in a tight v-neck t-shirt and jeans with her new black leather motorcycle chaps tightly hugging the doctor's thighs is fucking distracting as hell

Maura reaches for the other tool bag and hands it down to Jane. "I told you it would be metric. Japanese manufacturing in the 1980's only utilized-" Jane cuts the doctor off with a stern finger.

"An 'I told you so' would be sufficient, Maura." Jane says as she fumbles for the correct size of wrench. "I don't need the history of Kawasaki motorcycles." Jane finishes adjusting the throttle cable and gives it a couple of squeezes to check her work.

"I still don't understand why you didn't just go out and buy yourself a new bike." Maura smiles sweetly at her friend. Of course Maura can buy any new motorcycle she wants. But if she does that, she wouldn't need Jane around to help her. And that is precisely the reason Maura buys the old relic.

"This thing is going to need constant attention to keep running, you do know that, right?" Jane grouses as she looks over the cables.

Sometimes Jane is dense for such an intelligent woman. "I guess I'll just have to keep you on speed dial for all my...um..servicing needs," Maura says and bats her eyelashes at Jane.

Jane hesitates for a moment, but lets the comment go without saying a word.

Maura continues to prattle on about the merits of the old bike. "The 440LTD wasn't known for its powerful performance. It was highly regarded for its reliability over long distances and years."

"Huh," Jane chuckles at Maura's description of the bike, "Kind of sounds like a good friend."

"Yes, one that can provide a constant hum between my thighs." Jane's head snaps back to her shoulders at the doctor's words. She looks up into the sky and takes a deep breath. Is this woman tryng to kill her?

"With your money you can have anything you want." Jane shrugs her shoulders and wipes the sweat from her brow. A small smear of grease from her hand unknowingly replaces the sweat. "This thing is a glorified piece of crap, Maur."

Maura clutches dramatically at her chest at the detective's statement. "Jane! This 440 LTD is a vintage motorcycle. It's a classic cruiser-style," Maura affectionately runs her fingers along the curved handlebars, "designed to be ridden in an upright position." She looks down at Jane as the detective works to gather up some tools that were spread out on the concrete.

"So you prefer to ride in an upright position, huh?" Jane chuckles. Maura has been laying the sexual innuendo on pretty thick lately. Hell, even Frost and Korsak had to bite their knuckles on a few zingers Maura had thrown at Jane over the last few days. Jane can't refuse to shoot one back at her every now and then when she gets the opportunity.

Maura grins at the brunette. "It has its benefits, yes." Maura walks around to the other side of the motorcycle, admiring the seven-spoke wheels. "The previous owner took very good care of this bike. It really shouldn't take that much adjusting to get it road-ready."

Jane reaches for a screwdriver to double-check the carburetor. "I know. I just want to make sure nothing shook loose on the trip from DC to Boston. I can't believe you had to go so far away to buy this thing."

"I knew exactly what I wanted, it just happened to be in DC."

Jane pauses her hands on the engine and lets out a puff of air, "And you always get what you want, don't you?"

Maura walks slowly around behind the detective and looks at her kneeling on the ground working on the bike. "Not always, but I try."

Oh, how she's tried. She's tried everything imaginable to get Jane to make the first move; sky-high heels and short dresses that show off her legs. Insanely tight low-cut blouses that test the strength of the buttons. Providing entirely inappropriate responses dripping with sexual-laced overtones to mundane statements. Hell, she even tried her hand at making Jane jealous by going out with a plethora of men. Nothing seems to work.

Either Jane is entirely straight, or she just isn't trying hard enough.

And there is no way Jane is that fucking straight.

Maura has always been hyper-aware of her own attraction to the detective. She thought it was one-sided, but recently she's picked up on some non-verbal cues from the detective that have given her hope.

Maybe Jane really is that oblivious to her attraction to her best friend. But Maura is certain it is there, lying dormant, just under the surface waiting to erupt.

The motorcycle is her latest attempt at getting Jane to open up to her feelings towards her. If sexy, flirty femme isn't doing it, perhaps a dash of butch thrown in on the side will push Jane over the edge.

"You better hope none of these wires came loose," Jane says as she follows the leads from the ignition and headlight. "I can handle a screwdriver and wrenches, but I'm not a trained electrician. I don't even own a soldering gun." Jane wipes at the sweat accumulating at the side of her nose with the only clean spot left on her wrist. Her white tank top is already dirty from leaning over the tires and other parts of the bike.

Maura steps up alongside the detective and places her hand on the seat of the cycle. "Well, if you can't do it I suppose I could call the woman I bought it from. She told me to call her if I needed any assistance." Maura runs her fingers slowly over the undulations in the leather seat, which she surmises are shaped similarly to the nicely formed set of abs located under the 100% cotton tank top Jane is sporting. "I got the impression she was very good with her hands." Maura looks down into the chocolate brown eyes staring back at her, "I bet she could teach you a few things, Jane."

Jane huffs at the doctor, "Yeah, I'm sure she'd just love you to give her a call."

Maura shrug her shoulders, "She seemed very helpful," the doctor gives a small wave of her hand, "You'd probably like her. She's in law enforcement too, I believe."

Jane stands up and wipes her hands on the shop towel. "I'm sure she was extremely helpful," Jane replies sarcastically. Who wouldn't bend over backwards for the gorgeous doctor?

Jane stops to take in a breath and gives a quick glance over the doctor's new clothes. The black leather chaps are zipped tightly around a new pair of black boots. Jane squints to take a better look at the boots and she realizes they really are practical riding boots. Maybe even a little teensy bit on the masculine side. Jane is impressed…and quite frankly, a little turned on. Well, fuck…she is more than a little turned on. The image of Maura Isles in the leather gear has been permanently seared into her brain.

"Hey Maur…what's with all the new clothes?" Jane tries to sound nonchalant. She shifts her weight from one foot to the other as she runs a hand through curly raven locks.

"Oh, these?" Maura motions to her new leather attire, "the woman I bought the motorcycle from strongly suggested I buy the leather to wear." At Jane's raised eyebrow she quickly adds, "For safety, you know." Maura smiles at Jane's skeptical look, "One can never be too safe."

Jane crosses her arms as she cocks her head to the side. Safety my ass. That woman was ballsy; she'd have to give her credit. Plus, she figures she owes her a debt of gratitude for getting Maura to splurge on the new gear. The doctor in leather…is fucking hot.

Maura struts around in front of Jane, hoping the creak of the leather chaps or the gentle thud of the heavy boots will illicit some type of reaction from the stubborn detective. But every time Maura looks at the other woman, she adverts her eyes back to the bike and pretends like she wasn't just ogling the doctor.

Nothing. Nada.

It appears that Jane's libido is firmly frozen in neutral.

Time to kick things into gear, Maura muses to herself.

The doctor abruptly turns her backside to the brunette and lets her hand run down the outside of her hip, caressing the outside pocket of her jeans. She looks over her shoulder, back at Jane.

"Do these chaps make my butt look big?"

Dr. Isles just gave her an open invitation to stare at her ass? Jane wastes no time and looks up from the engine and stares at the doctor's ass, taking in the luscious curves and finally really getting time to appreciate the way the leather chaps hug the curves of her hips. She blinks a couple of times before she can tear her eyes off her ass to look Maura in the face. An eyebrow rises as she waits for Jane's response.

Jane swallows.

Her mouth opens, but it takes a few tries before she can utter a coherent sentence.

"Um..no, your butt looks just fine, Maur." Jane shakes her head slightly, trying to decide how far to take things. She throws caution to the wind. "You'll let me know if you need my opinion on a black leather studded bra, right?"

Maura tosses her head back slightly and shivers at the thought.

"Oh...I don't think that would be appropriate riding apparel." She raises her eyebrows at Jane and adds with a wink, "But I could think of other more practical uses for some leather under garments."

Jane momentarily forgets to breathe.

Maura throws her new black leather jacket on over her shoulders and adjusts the sleeves.

"Are you ready?"

"Huh?" It's all Jane can manage. She's pretty sure the bottom of her jaw is dangerously close to the driveway at this point.

Maura waves her hand at the bike, "Is it ready to go?"

"Um…yeah, I guess so." Jane rubs her hands on the shop towel, "Just no night riding until I'm sure that wiring is going to hold on the head light."

Maura is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as a wide smile breaks out on her face. "I can't wait to pop my motorcycle cherry!" A big toothy grin greets Jane's bewildered expression. "I'm so glad you're here to experience it with me."

You're fucking kidding me, right?

Maura's face falls as she catches the brunette's dazed state. "You look nervous," the doctor says.

Jane snorts, "Why would I be nervous?"

Maura squints her eyes at the detective. "Maybe you're jealous." Jane stares back at her blankly. "You probably want to ride it, too. Is that it?"

Jane shakes her head, "No, I'm good."

"You can ride on the back." Maura pats the seat, "The two-tier seat is perfect for a passenger."
Jane crosses her arms and gives the doctor an incredulous look, "Are you freaking kidding me? I am not riding on the back of this motorcycle with you!"

Maura gives an exasperated shake of her head, "Why not?"

Jane waves her arm towards the back of the bike, "I am not going to be your 'bitch' Maura!"

"What do you mean?"

"That's what they call the woman that rides on the back seat of a motorcycle, Maura." Jane crosses her arms again. "Jane Rizzoli is nobody's bitch."

Maura takes a step in front of Jane and puts her hands on leather covered hips.

"Well, if you'd like, you can be in front." She rakes her eyes down the detective's lithe frame. She tosses her hair over her shoulder, a sultry grin forms on her perfect lips. Her dark eyes meet back up with the detectives. "I've got no problem being your bitch, Jane."

Jane wipes at the corners of her mouth with her thumb and her finger as she let her eyes slowly fall from Maura's face, down to the exposed skin of her chest and to the belt buckle of the chaps riding low on the doctor's waist.

It's so quiet Jane can hear the blood pumping through her chest and she can feel the majority of it race to the throbbing southern parts of her body.

"Are we still talking about motorcycles?" Her deep, raspy voice breaks the deafening silence.

"Jane...," Maura tilts her head at the detective, "I haven't been talking about motorcycles for the last 15 minutes."

Jane flicks her eyes to the rapidly setting autumn sun behind her. "I think it's getting a little late for a ride, Maur."

The doctor reaches down and hooks her fingers through the belt loops in the jeans on either side on Jane's hips. She yanks the detective forward pulling her pelvis into the doctor, the buckle of the chaps pushing deliciously into Jane's center.

"It's never too late for a ride, Jane." She gestures to the bike with her head, "But the motorcycle is staying in the garage tonight." She intertwines her fingers in Jane's hand and takes a step towards the back door of the house.

"You coming with me?" the doctor asks, coyly.

Jane takes one more look at the bike before she tosses the shop towel toward the cycle, hooking it on the handlebar. She squeezes the fingers mingling with hers.

With any luck, yes.