for L. who gave me back my joy in writing for pleasure (ugh, it's still fucking torture tho;) Happy bday, bby!
"I don't know, Maura," Jane says.
"My hands are huge and you are small," Jane can't help but notice Maura's eyes widening at that last statement and a blush spreading from Maura's chest to her face. Jane feels her own blood rushing to rather lower regions at the sight, because it reminds her of the last time she saw that lovely flush on that equally lovely skin. Earlier that morning actually, when Jane triumphantly looked up from between Maura's legs with a cocky, if shiny, smirk.
"I have never known you to shy away from a challenge," Maura's voice takes on a seductive, teasing note Jane is only too familiar with. The one that provokes conflicting feelings of annoyance at being so blatantly played and a kind of helpless willingness to do anything Maura asks of her.
"It's not like that," Jane says, trying her best to not sound too whiny. After a brief pause in which she gathers herself, she continues in a softer voice, "I just don't want to hurt you."
Maura gives her that deeply adoring look that Jane in the past never knew how to read, which explains why it took so long for them to throw off the pretense that they were just BFFs. Well, that's how Jane frames it in her mind anyway, preferring to gloss over the more obvious obstacle that kept them apart for so long. But as Angela once explained to an exasperated Maura, "Jane wouldn't be Jane if she wasn't in denial about something."
"I wouldn't let you go in cold, Jane," Maura admonishes, "like with any athletic activity, we'd do plenty of warm-up exercises and stretches beforehand." Her voice trails off and she cocks her head, looking into the distance over Jane's shoulder and tapping her lip with her index finger as she ponders the significance of her choice of words. A pleased little smile appears and she nods at Jane sagely.
"Also," she continues, "it takes some practice and preparation to...uh...pave the way, so to speak," Jane's ears prick up at Maura's uncharacteristic coyness.
"It's perfectly safe," she hastens to add as she notices the suspicious tilt of Jane's head.
"And you know this how? You've done this before?" Jane's detective eyes closely interrogate the features of the woman she loves.
"This is one of your European things, isn't it? Don't lie to me, Maura!" she growls as she waves her index finger accusingly in Maura's direction. They both know Jane is not referring to outright falsehoods, but to Maura's finely honed skills of deception, diversion and misdirection.
"I read a lot! And I am a physician, after all," Maura concedes in a high-pitched voice. "It's not rocket science, Jane."
"Also there's no equipment you need to familiarise yourself with," Maura chirps, but Jane's shoulders sag a little. She likes equipment, dammit. Even as a little girl she was drawn to the gear-heavy sports. Softball was her favourite, what with the bat, the glove, the helmet and ugh, the uniform, of course. And as a grown woman, it's not limited to sports equipment anymore.
"It's just your hands and fingers," Maura sighs as she lovingly caresses Jane's fingers with her own. She is easily mesmerised by Jane's hands, one of the first things she noticed about her—well, after her kinky boots of course, and those big, dark, badly made-up eyes (Jane is still not good with eyeliner, despite Maura's multiple, well-meaning attempts to help her improve her technique, which Jane has not been very receptive to). Those dark eyes which were blazing at her with the defiance and anger she now recognises as Jane's habitual death glare when she is overwhelmed, angry or feels backed into a corner. But it wasn't until Jane aggressively pointed at Stanley with her long, sexy index finger, that Maura realised she was feeling something more for this woman than just medical concern for her nutrition.
She looks up into the chocolaty abyss that is Jane's eyes, "Don't you trust me, baby?"
They've been at it for half the night when Maura turns to Jane, both on their backs and still slightly out of breath. She takes pleasure in the sweaty sheen coating their bodies, glistening in the light of the candles Jane always insists on instead of the subtle, seductive lighting she had installed in her boudoir expressly for nights like this.
"Now, Jane," she breathes into her ear, "Now!"
Jane, although still caught in the tendrils of her own orgasm precipitated by Maura's multiple, violently convulsing climaxes catches on to the urgency – or is it need perhaps – in Maura's voice. She turns her head and almost drowns in Maura's hazel eyes but still manages to eke out a "Huh?"
Usually it is Jane who rolls the eyes in their relationship, but there's no mistaking it, Maura is doing it now and moving as if to get out of bed.
"Hey now, baby," Jane grabs Maura's shoulder which is turning away from her, she quickly scoots closer to her, burying her face in Maura's neck, huffing her scent before murmuring against her skin, "What is it you want me to do?"
She places gentle kisses up and down her shoulder, restraining herself, making sure not to leave any marks which she knows Maura disapproves of, even though she has this desperate need to claim her. To announce to the world – or maybe just the precinct – that those were her lips caressing the clever, hot, accomplished Chief ME's skin, and that she is hers and hers alone.
"I'm not a mind reader, you know," she pulls Maura closer against her and runs a hand over her belly and up to the sweet, sweet weight of one of her breasts, "Tell me what you want, Sexy."
Maura wilts into Jane's touch, "Remember what I said about warm-up exercises and practice? And how I told you, you shouldn't go in cold? I'm definitely warmed up now; it's time for some stretches."