"Jane…oh God, Jane… please, don't stop!"
Maura is straddled across my lap. I look up into hazel eyes that peer into mine as I hear her breathing become ragged. Her hips are moving against my left hand as I drive my fingers into silky warm walls. My other arm is around her waist, holding her body against me, and those breasts…you know the ones – the ones I've spent years devouring in my dreams – THOSE breasts, are close enough for my tongue to reach out and take a hardened bud in my mouth. She's thrusting harder now, and if I thought she was wet before, I realize that now her juices are running down my knuckles, into my palm, and the delirious feeling of her walls clenching my fingers deeper into her feels like heaven.
"Jane!"
I hear her scream again, only this time, it's not arousal I hear in her voice, it's irritation.
"Jane! Jane, what's wrong with you!?" I feel a tap on my shoulder and suddenly I'm aware that Maura is standing behind me, as I sit, not so innocently, on her couch. The same couch that I had just been violating in the unexpected daydream that Maura was the star of.
Fuck. What the fuck, Rizzoli? Are you fucking kidding me with this? What are you, a 14 year old boy?
"Maura. Heeeyyyy!" I say, a little too enthusiastically, I might add. I shift my body around to look at Maura, who is now coming around the side of the couch, eyeing me suspiciously.
That was my first mistake. Irritation had turned to concern, and that concern was turning me into another one of Dr. Maura Isles' rapid-fire diagnoses. My breathing was still trying to even itself out, and when she was finally in my line of sight, I gasped slightly at the barely-covered body of my favorite medical examiner, wrapped in a bath towel, skin still flush and damp from the shower, wet hair combed back away from her beautiful makeup-free face. I gulped, audibly. The only thing that could have made her more beautiful in that moment would have been if she hadn't been scrutinizing me with a slight scowl on her face.
"Jane, are you ok?" Worry was evident in her voice now.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Maura. I'm sorry, I must've spaced out. What's up?"
"Jane, you don't look fine. Your face is flush, and you appear to be short of breath." She crosses in front of me, taking a seat perilously near me on the couch. Her right hand makes its way immediately to my forehead. "Jane, honey, you're perspiring. Are you coming down with something?" Soft fingers travel down my temple, across my jaw, and finally, down to my neck. Shit. "Your pulse is unusually elevated, Jane." Another sharp intake of breath on my part. My eyes wander down to her bare legs, which I can see are freshly shaven. Is it hot in here? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I grab her wrist gently, pulling her hand away from the vein that I feel throbbing in my neck, and set it back down on her knee.
"Maur, I'm fine. Really." Please let it go. Please let it go.
I watch as her eyes dart from the pulse point she's been eyeballing, to my eyes, to my hands, which I have nervously begun to rub. Those damn scars - the ones that give me away every time I get scared, or angry, (or nervous), are raw.
"Jane, you are demonstrating several signs of acute stress. Why won't you tell me what's wrong?" Her face searches mine, and I'm certain that she's doing that facial recognition thing again. This time, she reaches out with both hands, and takes my right hand into both of hers. My breath catches again. I withdraw my hand immediately, afraid she'll feel how sweaty my palms are too.
I frantically rub my palms on my jeans, and push off on my thighs to lift myself from the couch. "You want anything? I'm getting a beer," I rasp out.
Maura turns her head in my direction, and her mouth opens, as if she's about to answer me, then changes her mind. I look at her, expectantly, and she just shakes her head. I can tell she's still scrutinizing my every move. I reach in, grab a beer, pop the top, and guzzle half of it down before I even close the refrigerator door. Good. Deep breath, Jane. Focus. "So, what's up, Maur? You were calling me?"
Maura's face changes suddenly from pensive to inquisitive. She gets up from the couch, saunters towards the kitchen, and tilts her head in that way she does when she's trying to figure something out. That something would be me. "Jane, do you think you could look at my scar?"
"Excuse me?" My voice catches in my throat. "Um...WHY?" I guzzle the rest of the beer, swipe the bottle across my forehead to cool myself down a bit before chucking it into Maura's recycle bin. It proves to be ineffective in relieving my problem, so I swipe my sleeve across my brow before reaching back into the fridge and grabbing another beer.
"Well, I know this sounds vain, but I haven't, you know…BEEN with anyone since the surgery. I'm a little apprehensive about how my body looks. I don't know what I'm expecting from you, really. I shouldn't need validation. I know that medically speaking, it's healing appropriately, but the scar is still, I don't know, Jane…it just BOTHERS me." She's almost whining now, and when she looks at me, her eyes are a mixture of vulnerability and… something else. Right now I'd give anything to be able to use those facial recognition clues that Maura's always going on about, because my detective radar is going off in my head and I can't figure out why. But ok, I'll play along. Come to think of it, after Maura's arrest, I was struggling so hard to keep my eyes averted when we stripped her down in the interrogation room that I missed the opportunity to see the results of her selfless donation to her half-sister. But I'm not gonna seem too anxious. That would be very unRizzoli-like of me.
"Gee, THAT sounds appetizing," I chime in sarcastically. "Can you at least let me eat my dinner first?" I smirk at her, so she knows I'm at least partially kidding. "Chinese should be here any minute." For a split second, I think I've hurt her feelings. Her face drops a little. But almost as quickly, she recovers and sighs at my sarcasm. "You know, a lot of people wouldn't put up with your abuse," she smirks at me. She turns and walks away, and as I'm unashamedly watching the back of her exposed thighs, she suddenly swings her head back around and says she's going to go put on some clothes. She's fully aware as my gaze shifts suddenly from where it had been to her eyes, and there it is again…that something. She quirks her brow and rounds the corner as she makes towards her bedroom. Busted. So busted. Is it just me, or did she just watch me check her out?
Right on cue, the delivery guy shows up with our dinner, as Maura comes padding back barefoot into the kitchen in a black pair of yoga shorts and a white tank top, hair pulled into a high ponytail. I watch her from my spot in the kitchen as she graciously pays him, says something to him in his native tongue, and brings our food to the island. This is my favorite look on Maura. I mean sure, she's exquisite in her dresses and heels. Gorgeous when her hair and makeup is fully done, but this Maura…this Maura is the one most people don't get to see. This Maura makes me so proud that she feels secure enough around me to be the most organic, untainted version of herself. Of course, this Maura also makes me realize that the reason she's like this around me is because she thinks of me like family. Like a sister kind of family. Yay.
"Why don't you grab a quick shower, Jane? I'll get our food plated up and put the movie in. You've got clean t-shirts and shorts in the top drawer of the armoire." She smiles that smile I love so much and I blush slightly as just how much our lives are intertwined. Sure, we spend most of our time here, but she's got a drawer at my place too. The thought brings about the butterflies that I've become hyperaware of lately.
"Yeah, yeah...that sounds good. I'll be right back." I smile back, but I'm a suddenly just a little sad, as I've just had the insight that Maura and I are family. Yep, family. And I've been having some seriously incestuous thoughts about this particular family member. A cold shower it is.
A few minutes later, I've showered and changed and arrive back in the living room to find our food laid out on Maura's coffee table, along with another cold beer, and a glass of Pinot Noir. Maura is sitting, cross legged on the floor between the couch and the coffee table, remote in hand, ready to start the movie. She hasn't touched her food yet. She's comfortable, but still would never dream of defying proper etiquette. I notice that my plate and my beer are right next to her spot on the floor, which forces me to acknowledge that when I sit down, there is absolutely NO WAY that we won't be touching. I coax my mind into swallowing what little saliva is left in my mouth. "You got everything we need?" I ask hoarsely.
"I think so," she shrugs, then smiling, pats the spot beside her on the floor. "Come on, Jane. Sit. The food's going to get cold."
As soon as I've settled myself to the right of her, I'm a little taken aback by how warm her thigh is, as it's casually resting against mine. I feel the coil of arousal stir in my lower belly. She glances over at me out of the corner of her eye and says, "Are you ready?"
Fuck yeah, I'm ready. You just say the word. But I know what she means. "Yeah, yeah, go ahead," I say, eyes staring straight ahead.
She presses the play button and the copy of "The Conjuring" that I bought for 5 bucks from one of Rondo's friends starts playing. It's a bootleg, but it's so well made you'd never know it. Maura would probably not approve of my being party to movie piracy, but she doesn't keep tabs on what's out on DVD yet, and plus, I figured she'd appreciate something that was a least BASED on a true story. I know she's going to break down into a bunch of Google-verified scientific explanations for everything in the movie, but right now, all I can think about is the fact that at least something in the movie will startle her enough that she'll have no choice but to bury her head in my shoulder, or grab my leg, or, I don't know…something. Pathetic, I know. But a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do. I realize about 5 minutes into the movie that maybe we should have waited until we were done eating to get it started. Something about my stomach being all tensed up while I'm trying to chow down on Chinese food is just not working for me. Maura, on the other hand, has her eyes glued to the screen. Her appetite, it seems, is unaffected by any of this. EPIC FAIL.
"Hey, Maur…do you mind pausing this until after we finish eating?"
She looks over at me incredulously, eyebrows raised in the form of a question, before she grabs the remote and presses the pause button. "You ok?" she asks again. There's a hint of a smirk there. I see it.
"Yeah, it's just that…I mean, if something pops out or whatever, I don't wanna be flinging noodles across your living room." That earns me a chuckle from Maura. She shakes her head and directs her attention back to her plate.
"You know, Jane, you're not going to maintain your 'badass' reputation if you're going to get all squeamish over a silly little horror movie. Or if you can't handle looking at your best friend's surgical scar. Don't think I haven't noticed that you've never so much as shown an interest in it. Does it bother you?" Maura had turned her face fully to look at me now, and I could see in her eyes that she was attempting to be coy, but there were genuine feelings of concern manifesting themselves across her delicate features.
"What? No! Maur, it's not that..I mean, really? How could you even think it would bother me?" I turned to face her, bringing my hand to rest on the same thigh that had been driving me insane since we'd sat down to dinner. I looked at her face intently, making sure she knew that I meant what I was about to say. "Hello? Have you met me? I have scars that have scars! I'm sure your tiny little incision is barely even noticeable. Besides, it's not like something like that could make you any less beautiful. Any guy who would be bothered by that is a guy you don't need to waste your time with."
"Oh, Jane," she whispered, bringing her hand up to her heart. "That is so sweet." Her eyes had begun to tear up now, sincerely affected by what I had said. I wiped an errant tear from her cheek and she turned her gaze towards the ceiling to stop anymore from falling. "I'm sorry, Jane. It's just that my amygdala and my…"
"I know Maur, I know." I smiled and brought her into a hug. Feeling her arms circle my waist, as her breath ghosted across my neck, I had one thought. This is going to be a long night.