Frost is here because to be honest I don't know what Rizzoli and Isles is going to be like without him. I couldn't leave him out. My heart is broken for them all. RIP Lee.
This isn't set after any particular episode it's just one of my imaginings.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- x-x
Soft jazz music played and a bottle of Stone Street Chardonnay sat half empty on the counter-top. Maura lay on the couch in royal blue silk pyjama shorts and a loose fitting white v-neck t-shirt falling off one shoulder.
Underwear had been discarded along with her burnt orange shirt and black pencil skirt the minute she got home and into the shower washing off a very long week. Double homicide which had turned out to be over a long running family feud about land got messy when the remaining family began to fight over the bodies and where they should be buried. Focusing on the dead was her job, but it was very hard to do with screaming relatives outside her morgue. Maura sighed as she towelled herself off and retrieved everything she needed for an evening in by herself.
Now her empty glass was sitting on the table. Maura was reclining on the sofa. Her hair was splayed out over a number of cushions she was resting her head on, the bobbin that had been taming it on the floor. One hand was resting on her left breast slowly teasing a nipple through her t-shirt the other was between her legs rubbing gently. She was wet and as she replayed the words in her head adding images as her fingers began to move in slow vertical movements up and down her folds. The book she had been reading lay on the table face down. The erotic tale of forbidden romance in the late 19th Century was the kind of book that was Maura's guilty pleasure. She kept a shelf of them at the back of her closet and read one when she was having a dry spell in terms of sex. Maura found porn a turn off, too loud and forced. She knew when someone was faking an orgasm and the women almost always were. Using her imagination to put images to the words in these books was far more pleasurable to her.
She moved her hand and cupped her breast from the front, palming her nipple, squeezing hard. She loved the feeling of her breasts being played with during sex but lovers never paid them much heed after an initial feel and a few questions about whether they were 'real'.
She let out a slight whimper as she slipped two fingers inside herself and began to slide in and out slowly. She wanted to draw this out having just read a particularly arousing part of the novel where the chambermaid Marianna and the Lord's daughter Violet had just begun a love affair unbeknownst to the other occupants of the house. As the two young women made love in a guest bedroom where they thought they were safe another servant came Lara upon them. She too had lusted after the Lord's daughter but was too shy to speak up. Now as she watched the two women having sex the scene before her entranced her. Her thoughts were interrupted when Violet spotted her in the door way and bolted upright in the bed exposing her naked top half to the younger woman.
That was where Maura had stopped reading. Moving her left hand into her hair to run her fingers through it and pushing her fingers on her right hand as far as she could into the wetness that was soaking her hand she bit her lip and tried to keep from screaming out as she felt herself getting close. Talking to herself all the time she never remembered what she had said afterwards but they were general words of encouragement and in some cases she fantasised she was a character in the book so the name of that character or the one she was fantasising about slipped from her lips. In this case she was the servant and she was watching Violet and Marianna. As she imagined what it would be like to be Lara getting into bed with two women and being taken by four hands – as Maura had written the next bit of the story in her head – she came hard screaming 'Violet' as she felt a gush of wetness on her fingers and palm. Her nails dug into her scalp and she pushed her head hard into the pillows enjoying every last minute of getting herself off. It was her guilty pleasure and once it stayed that way she didn't care. After all as she'd told many people before, masturbation is a wonderful stress reliever. The person she told it to most however never took any notice, except right at this moment in time. Jane stood inside the doorway of the back entrance to the house hidden in the shadows by the slightly open closet door where Maura had hung her coat on the way in. She had come in quietly as it was late and she was only borrowing a sieve for her Ma. She thought Maura would be in bed after the week they'd had. She knew she should leave. She knew it was wrong. But only two thoughts were at the forefront of her mind right now – How hot Maura looked as she came and who the hell was Violet?
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- x-x-x
The drive back to her apartment seemed to take twice as long as it normally did and by the time Jane had sorted the mail walked Jo Friday and fridged the left overs her Ma insisted she bring home because she never ate properly according to Angela, she was ready for bed. But sleep eluded her as she lay there tossing and turning and thinking about what the evening had brought. Of course it was totally normal for Maura to pleasure herself, everyone did. She didn't expect to have to see it ever but that was just an unfortunate timing issue. So why had she stayed? Why when she heard that first moan had she not moved back towards the door and let herself out? Jane knew the answer she just didn't know how to make sense of it. She knew her body's physical response to it too. When she began to dress for bed she saw the wet stain on her underwear. The seam of her jeans had tortured her as she drove home, so much so that she had to throw sweats on to walk Jo. Now as she slipped her hand into her cotton pyjama shorts Jane could feel herself throbbing. It had been so long since she'd been so aroused that she'd almost forgotten what it felt like. As she closed her eyes and began to gently stroke herself images of Maura lying on the couch filled her head. Her best friend made the most wonderful sounds. As Jane thought of the expanse of pale skin on show between Maura's t-shirt and her shorts and on her shoulder Jane imagined what it would be like to kiss and lick that soft skin. Her motions quickened as she thought about the way Maura groaned as she palmed her breast. Jane imagined what it would be like to touch those breasts and suck on those pink nipples that stood out so prominently against the white t-shirt as she slipped two fingers into mounting heat and wetness. Arching her hips off the bed she pushed herself as far onto her fingers as she could imaging what it would be like to bury her fingers in Maura, to feel her? Would she be as wet as Jane was now? How would she like it? Fast and hard? Slow and soft? Would she want to be kissed as they made love? How would she look when she came – she hadn't been able to see her face properly at the house? As Jane imagined the many ways she could take Maura and what it would feel like she pushed her thumb down hard on her clit and with three firm strokes came hard letting out a small cry as release took over and she came in a gush of warm wetness on her hand. As her muscles relaxed and her hips returned to the bed she turned on her side to look into the darkness. A tear slipped down her cheek as she thought about what she'd just done. Maura was her best friend. She'd betrayed her. She'd betrayed her and then she'd fantasised about her as she got herself off. Jane was disgusted with herself until something dawned on her. This wasn't the first time Maura had entered her head during sex. Not masturbating but sometimes during sex with other people Jane had imagined it was Maura kissing her, Maura holding her, Maura touching her. It had never occurred to her until that moment that Maura filled far more of her waking thoughts than any best friend should.
"Shit" Jane muttered into the darkness. She heard Jo skitter across the floor and jump up onto the bed. As if almost sensing her owners needed company and comfort the little dog curled up at Jane's feet and rested her head on her foot.
Jane tried to sleep. She usually managed it after she'd had sex or satisfied the need herself. But she knew for a fact that this night wasn't going to bring any sleep. This night was going to bring a lot of questions and a lot of self-recrimination.
x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x- x-x-x
A/N So this was going to be a one-shot but I'm king of keen to see how jealous Jane gets before she cracks and tries to figure out who Violet is using those great detective skills of hers! I also might throw in a crime given the show itself is light on them at the moment ;)