CAREFUL: SPOILERS IN HERE!
Episode 4x02 made me laugh so hard sometimes, I still can't believe that it inspired me to write such a DARK story like this. Believe me: it's dark. And even if Lisbon is not really resisting- the first sex scene in this story feels almost like a rape, so be warned. If you're not in the mood for angst today, don't read on. If you want to do so anyway: there'll be a happy ending. Kind of.
It might be OOC for both of them, but hey- he was a pretty mean bastard in "Little Red Book", I almost felt sorry for Haffner. And this story is based on the notion that he literally doesn't understand what he's doing- until it's too late. I think he would be capable of that- he is basically a good guy, I'm sure of that, but he's not unable to hurt people, I'm also sure of that. And: I LIKE him. I ADORE him. He is my most favorite character in the world. But, sorry PJ: episodes like 4x02 make me want to have him lose this iron control SO BAD…it's my main motivation for writing FanFiction. I don't want to stay inside the tight confines of the characters we see on show- I want to BEND them. Make them behave IRRATIONALLY. And make always-in-control, smart-assed Patrick Jane LOSE IT COMPLETELY. My guilty pleasure :D.
The title is taken from- well? Of course. Amazing Grace.
Disclaimer: not mine, and I'm really not responsible for the twisted roads my mind is taking sometimes. I think.
M, smutty, PWP? I guess. But, as I already said: it's pretty DARK PWP.
But Now I See
It took a while for him to come down that night. But when he did, he found the urge to test how far he could push her.
A strange giddiness took hold of him. Suddenly he felt elated, invigorated. He had no idea why, but Patrick Jane was not into questioning his feelings. He embraced or dismissed them. And tonight, he seemed to be in a hugging mood.
He whistled on the way to his car.
He knew it wouldn't be easy to…talk her into it. But he didn't like easy, anyway. And hey- his body felt so alive tonight. And with a secretive smile he found that he would like to share. With her- not with anyone else. No idea why. But they had something to celebrate tonight, hadn't they?
He stopped at a little specialty store he used to frequent in better times and pondered his options. Red wine? No. He was ready to spend some more on this occasion. So he chose the most expensive, exclusive bottle of champagne he could find. He even knew that she didn't really like the stuff, but tonight he wanted to show off, charm her, give a clear signal.
He bought the champagne and drove to her apartment.
She opened on the third knock, and he saw the unmistakable annoyance in her face. Of course she'd known who would pester her that close to midnight.
Well, Jane thought, let's see if I still know how to do that.
He flashed her his most dazzling smile and pulled his shoulders back, feeling his pectorals push against the fabric of his shirt. Causing the collar to gape a little bit more. He gave his eyes a seductive expression, not so much that it would be ridiculous, but enough to confuse her. Which it did. He watched her blink several times.
"Jane," she growled, but he could sense a different emotion beneath her irritation, "what the hell are you doing here?"
"Well," he drawled, pushing his hips forward, "we two have something to celebrate, haven't we?"
Lisbon crossed her arms over her chest, glaring at him.
"You grilled a guy to get me back into the babysitting position," she said calmly, "and you already forced me to say thank you, but okay, here we go again- thank you. I like my job. And I know you like me in my job because I let you play, so…"
She saw his eyes gleam with mischief when she said the word "play".
Damn, maybe she should refuse to talk to him at all, she could never win at this.
"What do you mean?" he asked softly, licking over his lips. Very slowly. Lisbon shuddered.
"You know what I mean," she hissed, a little bit sharper than she had intended. Never let Patrick Jane see how much he worked you up. Well, she thought on a humorless grin- she had always sucked at that discipline. She was transparent to him, no illusions there.
"Please, elaborate," he breathed sweetly.
"That wasn't about me, Jane," she snarled, "so don't play the gentleman. Haffner made clear he wouldn't let you play around. He was too by-the-book and boring for you. So you decided I was the lesser of two evils."
He felt a pang of something indefinite when she spoke of "evils". He didn't know why and chose not to inquire right now.
"What if you didn't get me back, Jane?" she whispered "What if you just got back the one agent that lets you do anything you want- supports all your schemes, saves your ass if you poke the wrong guys, conveniently turns a blind eye when you fool around?"
He forced himself to overlook the unmistakable hurt in her breathtakingly beautiful, jewel-like green eyes.
He stepped closer, well invading her personal space. She didn't budge, but it took all her will-power to keep her stance. Damn, Jane could be intimidating.
His voice was low and sexy when he spoke.
"What if I got back the one agent that loves me?"
Pain crashed into her heart like a battering ram. She swallowed the gasp only fractions before it would have burst out. She felt exposed, naked, deciphered. Stripped raw. How dare he say that in the privacy of her home? She felt tears stinging her eyes. Felt her body, her soul dissolve into a quivering mass of vulnerability.
Jane smiled, and since she felt as if he'd just skinned her alive his smile seemed almost cruel. He lowered his head, and she couldn't move. As if he'd pressed a button that made her freeze. He radiated warmth, his breath was as hot as a flame. He gushed luscious, fresh whiffs of it all over her face. And she knew she was lost. In hell.
Jane smelled her exquisite sweetness in the air all around her and inhaled greedily. Damn, he was hot. He hadn't been that hot in years. But this was the perfect night. The perfect night for both of them. He wanted to drown in her, wanted to forget about Red John, about Haffner, about anything, just for a little while. He knew she was confused and hurt, but she knew him- that was who he was. What he'd always been. He was as far from a reasonable man as they came.
He would give her a breathtaking time tonight. Charm his way back into her good graces tomorrow. In the end she saw him as a sweet, silly little boy- and she couldn't stay angry with him for very long.
His lips pressed down on hers, and her delicious taste invaded his senses, making him groan with delight. He'd never kissed her. Hell, hadn't kissed anyone like this in what felt like eons. But he could get used to this…to her. Maybe he could establish this, make her his little haven, a place where he could turn to when he needed some comfort and warmth. He hadn't wanted sex in the miserable eight years since he'd lost his soul, not once. But tonight was different, somehow.
And, well- he was Patrick Jane. He always got what he wanted. No problem to play beautiful, honest Lisbon.
He felt her lips open beneath his and deepened the kiss gladly, sucking at her tongue, challenging her to fight him. Igniting her passion. He felt her sharp arousal in the way she returned his kisses and bit back the grin that threatened to break out on his features.
No surprise there, agent Lisbon- I knew you wanted me. All the time.
He shed his clothes, as fast as possible, undressing himself first so she wouldn't feel at a disadvantage and shy away. He pressed his hot, bare erection against her abdomen, hard, knowing she could feel it through her clothes. She tried to break the kiss for a second then, but he wouldn't let her, framing her face with his hands, keeping her in place. She melted against him, wrapping her arms around his naked torso. His skin prickled wherever she touched, he jerked slightly in her arms.
He worked at her clothes like the magician he was. She never knew what hit her. Suddenly, her pants where gone, the warm summer air hit her naked belly, her bra snapped open and slid down her arms. He ripped her panties off, swallowing her gasp without flinching.
Her downy soft pubic hair felt breathtaking against his cock. How had he gone so long without this? He knew he was still a ladies' man- why had he never used this power? Well, he knew why- he'd never felt the urge. Had felt intimidated and awkward when women had made a move on him. But tonight he felt pulsating and alive and so unbelievably turned on…her skin was smooth and warm and felt so good he sighed with pleasure. His hands roamed her body, she was so petite, so small, a perfect pocketful. Made for him to collect.
He wanted to say something, wrap her up in the sweetest talk he could imagine, but he didn't seem to find the right words. Meh, he would do the talking tomorrow.
He picked her up, her slight weight hardly registering, and carried her to the bedroom, not breaking the kiss, finding his way by instinct alone.
He all but threw her onto the bed and immediately crawled over her, covering her body with his. He didn't look into her eyes. Watched her perfect, flushed little breasts instead. Those were begging him for attention. He licked at her nipple, reveling in her lustful groan. He felt something strange in the urgency with which her hands drove into the golden mass of his hair, but he didn't allow himself the luxury of thought…not now. She massaged his scalp with her hot little fingers, and the sensations translated directly into his groin. Hmmmmmm. That felt so good.
He spread her legs with rough hands, tested for her readiness briefly and found her wet to her knees. She bucked beneath him, and he brought his hips down without preliminaries, entering her, his hard cock blazing a trail of fire into her core.
Lisbon screamed into his mouth. He was huge, much bigger than she had ever thought, and somehow the sensation of him stretching her, stretching her so wide it almost, just almost hurt, seemed fitting. It had always been that way. Her struggling to accommodate his larger-than-life presence. His enormous, frighteningly capable mind. It wasn't different with his girth…she could barely take it, but she managed anyway. Having no idea how she did it.
Her sheath tried to halt his intrusion only for some seconds, before she opened up and swallowed his length, moaning when she felt him enter the deepest recesses she hid inside her body. It had been so long. His kisses, hard, passionate, relentless, made her heady. Made her lose her mind. Her traitorous body surrendered completely the second he started to thrust, his hands clutching her face, keeping her in place for his wild, bruising kisses, while he pounded into her, whipping the nerve endings in her lower body into a frenzy, his rhythm unfaltering, taking her, owning her.
The last fragments of coherent thinking told her to fight, not to allow him to crash through her barriers like a freight train, but they dissolved so quickly she couldn't follow, couldn't fathom them. Already her climax coiled in the pit of her lower abdomen, tensing, tensing, the sensations so sharp, so acute, it felt like him scraping over raw flesh. She couldn't fight it, couldn't resist.
It was over soon, Jane was so hot, so turned on, and he wasn't even trying to prolong it. His movements were fast, deep, urgent, feeling her tight body clench around him made him dizzy with want for more, so he fucked her even harder, sparks flying in front of his eyes every time she cried out when he surged into her to the hilt.
He came in a giant eruption of fireworks, his seed spurting out of his cock in giant, searing waves, his whole body tensed and he wrenched his mouth away from her lips, swollen and bruised from his kisses.
His release triggered hers and she screamed when a mind-blowing climax almost made her black out. Every muscle in her body convulsed, and she came so hard it was almost painful. She was choking on ecstasy, feeling every gush of his semen deep inside her, so hot, so rich, she screamed again.
She was trembling all over when she started to come down.
Jane sighed in bliss and rolled off her, separating their bodies, he was well-spent now. He felt a boneless exhaustion grip him and stretched his whole frame, flexing muscles he hadn't used in a while. He was already half asleep when he turned onto his side and wrapped his arms around her. Damn, she was SMALL in capital letters. Had he ever held such a teeny weeny woman in his arms? Certainly not.
He sighed again and allowed sleep to pull him under.
xxMentalistxx
He woke up only about an hour later, feeling great. He stretched heartily. His whole body hummed. He was full of warmth, bone-deep pleasure… and damn: he was horny. Like hell. His cock so hard it hurt.
He groped for her in the darkness, sliding his hands over her pillow. He sat up. She was gone.
He left the bed and started searching, catching the faint, cool breeze as soon as he entered the living room. He smiled.
He found her on the balcony, grinning lazily while he leant against the doorframe and watched her closely.
She had turned her back on him, looking out over the sleeping city. A full moon was up tonight, and he could see her quite clearly. His sight was excellent, he even noticed the delicate texture of her naked skin. She was beautiful. He couldn't stop to admire this unique beauty. She was an exquisite prize to win. His heart clenched, a strange feeling. But he was too happy to ask questions. He just wanted to enjoy. It was all harmless, he was sure of it.
He was positive she enjoyed this little game as much as he did. Tomorrow, he would bring both of them back to zero. If she wanted to pretend this never happened- fine with him. If she wanted to invite him here occasionally for some action between the sheets- even better. They were rational adults. No sappy kids with silly dreams of forever in their minds.
He felt a little bit queasy. He ignored it.
"Hey, Lisbon," he drawled, "care for an encore?"
She turned. And Jane froze. The smile vanished from his face. His eyes opened wide, going round with shock. He read her clearly as if she screamed at him, and for once he cursed his ability.
He didn't know what was happening here, but it hit him so hard he was almost doubling over. His erection subsided in seconds, and suddenly he felt cold and lonely, so lost he could have started to cry. Here and now. He gasped. He couldn't understand what he felt.
She had cried. Not some "I feel more than I should"-tears, some rivulets of regret for allowing him to have his way with her. No problems with that- he could weasel his way around it any time, luring her back to bed, distract her with the one thing he knew she couldn't resist.
But Lisbon had cried badly. Her desperation radiated from her in suffocating waves, her eyes were red, her face completely wet.
So, okay. She was really sad. Maybe felt a little bit used right now- obviously wasn't into sex without feelings. Maybe loved him far more than he had anticipated. Happened. He wasn't infallible- and had a hard time thinking with an erection, as he'd lately found out. So he should console her now. Make her feel better. Take her into his arms, say some soothing stuff to her, be gentle. Caring. Sweet. Piece of cake.
But he couldn't. Because his insides burned, the pain so strong he could hardly breathe through it. He felt on the verge of getting a heart-attack. His chest ached. And before he could stop them, his own tears were falling.
And when he looked at her, this beautiful, elfin woman with a lion's heart and her undying faith in him, no matter what he did, looked at this precious, awe-inspiring angel he had hurt so much, he finally saw it.
She'd been right. This wasn't about her. It was about him.
He knew she could have moved on without this damn job. Could always start a new life. She was bright, talented. The world was open to her, and she would have overcome her feelings for him eventually, realizing that he was the worst choice for a lover imaginable. She could just walk away into a bright future.
But he? Different story.
He would have been lost without her. Would have finally, irrevocably died the moment she left him. For there was only so much a man could take. He had lost love once. To lose it again? No way in hell he could survive that.
For he hadn't just gotten back the one agent that loved him. He'd gotten back the only person in the world he loved.
His insides screamed with the force of the realization. He had sworn never to love again. And he'd never, ever had any doubt that he would keep his promise. His heart was closed. Occupied with his thirst for vengeance, the feelings he had buried with his family. No way anybody could wriggle inside there. But she had.
He felt his tears drip onto his chest. She inched closer then, her hand lifting to touch his cheek, wiping at the wetness she found there.
She nodded slowly.
"It hurts, doesn't it?" she asked hoarsely, her voice hardly discernible "Yeah. I know."
She came even closer, her naked body touching his, her sweet mouth showering his face with soft, balmy kisses.
He wanted to stop her, not wanting to force her into caring for him, desperately needing to stop himself from hurting her more. He would die if he did.
But Lisbon would have nothing of it. Her hands slid down his chest and touched his manhood, coming alive again under her attentive fingers. The earth-shattering emotions she saw welling in his eyes fueled her own arousal. He didn't wear a mask right now. Playtime was over. This was the real Patrick Jane. The one he hid carefully. The one it had taken some time to discover beneath the various layers of cool and superiority he usually sported. The one she had fallen for.
She kissed his lips and felt his cock harden in her hands. Felt a violent shudder run all over his body. She walked him backwards through the gloomy living room until his calves hit the couch and he sank down on the seat. She went with him, straddling his lap, her hands never losing hold of his erection. His skin was blazing beneath her touch. Her tongue played with his, kisses so wet, open-mouthed. Hungry. He sobbed and pulled her closer. He needed her more than his next breath, his heart stretching with a feeling so painful, so alien after all these years that he held on to her for dear life.
He wanted to spill his guts. But he wanted to kiss her even more. So he stayed silent and took the second chance she gave him. His one way to salvation, and she had mercy on him.
His hands slid over her tiny body, setting her aflame, urging her to feast on him. Drink him up. He felt her wetness erupt against his quivering length, her folds rubbing against the base, heightening the sensation. Her hands squeezed his hard rod softly. He wanted to scream with ecstasy. Suddenly he felt dizzy with desire, his joviality was gone, he felt vulnerable and affected on all counts. She was under his skin, in his mind, his soul, playing his defenseless body like a master, and he gave everything up, there was no other choice to be made.
"Yes," he whispered against her lips, granting her a carte blanche to do with him as she pleased, "Yes…"
Lisbon lifted her groin and took her hands from his hard-on. Jane whimpered, feeling bereft, but moaned deeply when she lowered her body, impaling herself on his towering cock.
It felt…completely different from the first time. He felt the penetration in every fiber of his shaking frame, it gripped him inside out, and he wailed with the overwhelming sensation that was simply too much. He felt like the little boy from The Snow Queen, his icy heart melting under Lisbon's blazing touch, the mirror splinter lodged in his flesh burning away with the force of the love she woke in him. It hurt. But the warmth that perfused his body soothed the pain, made him sob with relief.
Lisbon established a slow, steady rhythm, taking him deep into his body before releasing him again, the suction felt like heavenly torture, and Jane closed his eyes, moaning for all he was worth, the sensations so much sharper now that he felt so much.
He grabbed her hips and started to meet the descent of her core on his pulsating shaft with upward thrusts of his own, his hot body slapping against hers, the base of his length rubbing against her clit every time he surged into her.
Lisbon threw her head back, her lips parted, savoring that she was finally able to feel him, not some lifeless façade he allowed her to see. She would have accepted whatever he had to offer, even if it would have killed her for sure. Love could be a cruel companion. She wasn't naïve. She'd always known it.
She'd never expected to see love in his playful, mischievous sea-green eyes. But she'd been ready to love him nonetheless. As if that had been her choice- it hadn't.
Now she could see the uncompromising emotion running through his system like a disease, saw the shadows haunting him in the very depths of his eyes, saw him hurting, scared. Loving.
She framed his face, pressed soft, luscious kisses on his inviting mouth. Went down on him again, gripping his trembling shaft with her vise-like sheath. Humming into his mouth while she took him, again, again.
Jane gripped her buttocks, lifting her groin millimeters from his, and thrust upwards, deep into her core, the muscles of his thighs straining with the effort, but he didn't care. He mustered every ounce of strength he had in him and slammed in and out of her, claiming her thoroughly.
Her head fell back and she accepted every thrust, reveling in his soft cries of pleasure when his release approached. She could feel her own so close now, already curling her toes. Her fingers drove through his glorious hair, movements erratic, desire so sharp now she was panting.
Jane cried out for the last time and went rigid beneath her the exact moment her climax branded through her. She milked the seed from him, the warm essence exploding from his cock, flooding her contracting core with its balmy sweetness. She gasped, and rocked against him, angling her hips to receive the last spurts of his luscious heat.
"Patrick," she whispered softly, brushing her lips against his, swallowing his low sobs into her wet, warm mouth.
He felt weak, drained, but he managed to get up with her in his arms in an almost superhuman effort. He carried her into her bedroom, and Lisbon was wrapping her legs around him as tight as she could.
He tried to sit her down on the mattress, but she wouldn't release him, clutching him with all her might, her tiny fingers digging into his shoulders.
So Jane just sank down with her in his arms, carefully adjusting their position until both were comfortable. He scooted down and placed his ear against her heart, listening for the fast, thundering beat.
"Teresa, "he whispered, "if I ever hurt you again, please- kick me. Kick me hard. I don't deserve your lenience."
She chuckled softly, stroking through his wayward curls.
"You would be black and blue in no time," she said.
"That's possibly right," he smiled, "but it would be well-deserved, Lisbon. I'm a pest. At least sometimes."
She growled.
"Okay," he sighed, "most of the time. I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I was such a fool. Blind as a bat."
It was silent for several minutes, the darkness thick with emotions and mingling, heavy breaths.
"I love you," Jane whispered helplessly, almost desperately, his voice small and confused, "what do I do now?"
"Go to sleep." She answered , her hands sliding over his naked back, soothing the fevered skin.
And he did, his desperation draining through her touch, and her steady heartbeat led him into the realms of sleep where he knew nothing could harm him tonight.
She kept watch.
The End
Okay- how awful was that? Tell me, please, I'm not sure about this. I'm not sure about anything that relates to my writing at the moment, I'm afraid, so I'm in dire need of some encouragement. Have you some, pretty please?
Anonymous Reviews ENABLED, and I appreciate every single scrap of feedback SO MUCH!