Devil and Pleasures
A/N I own nothing of Rizzoli and Isles, if I did they would never end. This would not leave me alone until I had it written. Enjoy the fruits of my augmented, or some might say, demented mind.
Jane watched as the very feminine figure slipped out of the sleek, sports car. In a flash, an umbrella enveloped the upper body to fend off the repressive rain that had started falling earlier that morning. Her brown eyes tracked the woman in question until she was shielded by the apartment building's overhang. Out of sight, she focused once again on the dreary weather. Almost in a trance like state, she watched as each rivulet smeared the gray sky, warping it until it matched the twisting tinges in her gut.
Shivers wracked her body as she heard the telltale clipped steps of expensive high heels. The sound only paused when the key to her door lock glided home and its tumblers turned. She closed her eyes and inhaled the perfumes that wafted from her own personal devil as she let the silk robe fall from her shoulders to the floor. When she was alone, her heart burned with a fury of loneliness. Her body starved. Now, she felt her body on the verge of being forcefully fed and her heart cooled by the intoxicating arms that wrapped around her nakedness from behind.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping, for once, to win against her rapidly building need. Jane exhaled, as she realized, she was already lost to the seductive touches that lured her to bare her soul. God, how she hated this part. The part where she was expected to comply with every demand. And she did so in futility. Her traitorous body giving way to such exquisite, painful pleasures that were only found at the tips of her tormentor's fingers. In-between the breaths, where defeat and victory shared the same meaning.
The warrior within her scoffed at such weakness, but her weakness was made bold by the thought of her true heart's desire getting what she needed, love. More times than not, she found herself humbling her passions at the altar of lust to fulfill a promise she made long ago. Jane had no intentions of ever breaking that promise, now or in the future.
As the sweat rolled off her face and back, she winced as it stung the fresh, red welts. With a tired hand she pushed her long, dark hair away from her face. Even though it is expected, she still flinched at the cool compress that took the worst of the stings away.
She endured the almost chaste kisses that are peppered along her shoulder and neck. Tender words fall hard on her calloused emotions. No, she would not be comforted by this woman who trades in the dark pleasures of skin for affection.
So what if she had to play this dangerous game, it was a means to an end. An end that in the final act allowed her love to stand in that shining light of feeling needed, wanted. The final act also included a harshness of a clear mind. A clear mind that recognized this joining as nothing more than a business deal. For an hour she traded her flesh for her love's happiness. No promises, no I love you, no tender touches in the night. When it was finished their time was over. Over until next time.
"Jusqu'à la prochaine fois, mon désir somber." (until next time, my dark desire) Flowed in a whispered around her face. Jane could feel the heated stare, it weighed against her cheek as if it were a hand. A nose pressed to the crook of her neck, it inhaled her scent and the scent of their carnality that still hung in the air from this bitter joining.
In the end, Jane won, as she always had. When pitted against the sweet smile that blossoms on Maura's face whenever she regales Jane about her mother's monthly visits and what they have done, yes, it was worth everything she could give. Whatever it took. Including her own body. To give her what she has longed for, a longing that reaches back to her childhood. The essence of family.
Jane watched as her mistress dressed. No thrill now rippled. No longing felt. For now, though unasked for, her desires were quenched. As it always was at this time, she felt afraid. Afraid that her secret would be shared. She could not help but give voice to that fear.
"Please, Constance. Maura can never…"
"Oh my sweet Jane, Maura will never find out from me. Until next month, oui?"
Their time ended in the same way. Constance picked up the silk robe and helped Jane into it. Covering her nakedness. With a graceful sweep of blue eyes, the Artist took in Jane's form before carefully cinching the belt and tying it. With a kiss to each cheek, she was gone.
The next evening Jane was waiting for Maura to return from time spent with her mother. She flicked through the sport networks, idly conforming herself to her known mannerisms. The day after always set her nerves on end.
When she heard the door open, she started yelling at the tv after quickly checking the teams.
"Is your team losing, Jane?" Maura asked with a smile as she plucked her heels off tired feet.
"Eh, they're all losers. So, tell me. How was dear old mom?" Jane asked as she muted the sound of talking heads.
"Dear Mom would be not so dear if she heard you call her old."
Jane just rolled her eyes and waited, she knew it was coming.
"Oh Jane, it's just wonderful. Mother has never been faithful as she has in recent months about keeping her promises to see me more."
Maura took a sip of Jane's Blue Moon beer and continued.
Jane listened and watched as a smile blossomed on her best friend's face.
There. That smile right there was the payoff.
A smile that she gladly paid for with her body and the marks upon it.
She loved her.
Always would.
No matter the price.