It's smooth and warm around you, pulsing, yearning.

There are sounds you've never heard before but you never wanna stop hearing. Some indiscernible words punctuate her breaths. She's smiling, then licking her lip, then arching her back, and throwing her head back. Your mouth busies itself with all it can reach. The finger, and then fingers, accustom themselves to their rhythm. You dive deeper and deeper and your fingers curl, your fingertips search.

All of her muscles contract as she laughs shortly. All of them. All. Of. Them.

But the key point is, she laughs. Not what you expected. You're taken aback.

"Jaaane?"

An incomprehensible murmur between kisses is your reply to her.

"Are you trying..."

Don't say it Maura please for everything's sake don't say it don't say it.

"...to find my g-spot?"

Don't make it awkward, don't back away, don't sound stupid.

"Yes."

Pause.

Does she notice when you tense?

"It's okay it just made me wanna pee." you look at her, searching her face in an attempt to read what she's thinking. "I need to pee." she repeats and she touches your hand slowly, and you pull out. She jumps to the bathroom. You body falls down where she used to lie and you feel her scent.

You fucked up you fucked up.

There's nothing to do and you wanna stop your mind from thinking.

So you just zone out.

She doesn't come out so you go look for her.

"Maur, everything okay?" you say after you knock.

"All fine, don't worry."

You still do.

I fucked up, didn't I?

You knock again.

"I'll be right there."

You can't read her tone and you can't see her neck to check if she's lying and all this makes you uncomfortable. You spread your body on the couch mattress and wait.

When she returns she lies next to you and closes her eyes.

"Mau.."

"Don't worry, I'm just a little dizzy." she answers before you can ask.

"You sure?"

A nod.

You turn to her and kiss her. She kisses back but only barely. You move lower to her collarbone. She's relaxed so you do it again. A slow breath escapes her. Encouraging. She scoots a little closer to you and your lips are now sucking on the soft skin.

A moan. She turns her face to you and for a short time you resume committing the shape and texture of her lips to memory. You feel like you better memorize it now, you won't get it again.

And she's even less responsive.

"I'm sorry." she says as she lies back down and spreads her limbs. "Just give me a minute." her tone tells you she's dozing off.

So that's it.

Cut off, like last time,

You grab the blanket, that blanket, and you cover her.

"Maura..."

"Mhm?"

"You should get to bed."

"I'm fine I'm fine just give me a minute."

Your eyes roll on their own as you make your way to her bedroom in search of pajamas. You enter and see that everything is very un-Maura-like. There are several pieces of underwear spread out on the unmade bed, like she couldn't decide what to wear. There's an empty shoebox laying in the middle and the closet is wide open. You clear the bed, leaving it all on an empty chair and notice your target peeking from under the pillows. Both the pants and the t-shirt come downstairs with you.

Then, there, you take one look at her and you can't believe it.

She's turned on her side, the blanket covering the bare minimum. Her legs are bent and it looks like she's walking and her arms are clutching the hem of the blanket at her chest. Like she's doing a photo-shoot. Even when she's drunk, passed out, naked on the pull out couch with a blanket on top.

You shake your head, smiling and you kneel down to her.

"Maura."

Some incoherent grumbling reaches your ears.

"Maura you need to put some clothes on, you'll catch a cold."

"I'm fiiiine... just give me a few seconds."

You don't.

You know you didn't get her underwear but it's discarded somewhere on the floor with everything else. And you didn't want to poke through her drawers. So, commando it will be. You carefully move her legs back together and manage to get the pajama bottoms up to her knees.

"Help me out here."

Her arms reach down as she pulls them up all the way.

"OK, now the top."

But there's no way you do that smoothly so you just shake her up, and pull the blanket off. She complains at the loss, reaching up with her arms expecting you to give it back, but you put her top in them instead.

"Put it on."

She complies.

Now only to get her to the bed.

It's easier than you think because you offer your hands and she grabs them and pulls herself up. You lead her to the bedroom and tuck her in, wrap her as tight as you possibly can, and then you kiss her cheek. And you just know that that's all there is and tomorrow you will have to look away every time her face is close to yours and turn your head outwards every time she hugs you. So you lean in further. She's turned away from you so you only kiss the corner of her mouth. It's not a good enough last kiss, so you lean down further in ways you think your spine is incapable of moving and you kiss her properly. She doesn't respond. She's already out again

Dehydrated!

You snap back and run to the bathroom where you know she keeps a glass.

A shake on her shoulder.

"Maura, water. You know you have to." When she moves it looks like she's tried to move a mountain. Her limbs appear heavy and she doesn't open her eyes when she reaches for the glass and you place it in her ready hand. She only drinks half before handing it back to you and slamming her head back into the pillow.

You're uncomfortable.

Was it because of what just took place? Or how? Or that she was drunk? Or that you feel like the worst possible piece of shit in the world? Or that you wish you hadn't drank at all so you could rationally stop yourself? Or that actually you don't, and you're glad whatever happened happened.

It's probably because you are afraid of the answers that you don't want to think about these things anymore. You grab her laptop and search for your bra and your top on the floor, making yourself comfortable downstairs. You're gonna stay and be there if she needs something. You just need a distraction.

You don't know for how long you've been pointlessly roaming around random websites when you hear the knock.

At first you think it's Frost or Korsak that could check on you. Maybe because they saw that you two were already drunk when you left the gathering, and you weren't answering your phone. But that's stupid, why would they do that?

They wouldn't.

It's not them.

It's her bang-buddy. Casual sex partner. Friend, no scratch that, acquaintance with benefits. Call it as you wish. Annoying arrogant undeserving icky fancy prick.

Poker face time.

"Bran. What are you doing here?" You try to sound polite.

"Maura texted me some time ago."

This confuses you. What?

"She called you over?"

"No, she just said she'd be home."

You understand. He's come to fuck. You hate him. You wanna smack your fist in his lousy overgroomed face that talks nothing but bullshit and make his teeth fall off until he's unable to speak. Then you wanna strangle him so he can't even produce that annoying voice anymore.

"Well, she was drunk and now she's passed out. I'm waiting to see if she needs something."

"Really?"

"Yep. What, you wanna check on her?" Yes. You even invite him. It's a taunt. You hope he notices the pulled out couch and the clothes left thrown away around the living room as he passes through on the way upstairs.

"Maura, hey Maura." he tries to shake her awake.

Here's that urge to glue your fist to his head again. She's sleeping you moron, stop it. Leave her alone.

"Don't touch me." she says sleepily. "I don't wanna be touched."

You don't even try to keep the grin inside when she shoos him off, but then it settles bitterly as a frown on your face as you think of what might have caused such reaction. You. And what you two did tonight.

He tries again.

"Hey, it's me, it's Bran..."

She shakes off the arm from underneath his hand and he finally backs off.

"Let her be, dude."

He nods and moves towards the door. On the way he says that if you or Maura need him, he'll be at some party at somebody's place that Maura knows. He lists a few names but you don't even bother to catch them. He's out of the door and still telling his plans to the abundant nothingness that pays attention to him. You nod repeatedly and as obviously obnoxiously as you can.

"Okay. Bye-bye." The door is shut. You know he doesn't like you. Why bother changing that?

It's too late to be going home and it doesn't make any sense. But you're very sober by now and you just can't stand to be there. You can't stand to think of the inevitable talk the following morning.

Fuck.

You take her keys and go to her desk, finding a post it to stick on her bedroom door.

"Took your keys to check on you later. I'll be back for breakfast. Don't lock yourself out."

So you pick up your coat and you're gone.

Don't worry, stuff's far from over, we still have about 68 hours left :P