Sleeves Stained Red
4
A/N: Ok so I know I said this would be the last but it has become apparent there's too much to touch on and if I ran with it now the chapter would never end…. Note the rating change, I'm probably overreacting but one can never be too sure.
We've taken a seriously emotional turn in this chapter… I hereby consider you all warned…
The implications behind her invitation and your acceptance have most definitely changed. You've both gone from a need for company, a need to no longer be alone, to a desire to put actions behind emotions you simply cannot put to words.
They are words she deserves, among so many other things. Promises, of devotion and acceptance and a fulfillment of the deep dark void inside you both, as you approach her door you wonder if there are enough moments in this coming night to resurrect them all.
The key in the lock sounds uncharacteristically loud, you watch her break the final barrier that will allow you an uninterrupted string of hours, hours you will hopefully be able to fill with everything you both need.
Contrary to popular belief you do not frequent this space. This is a place you've left completely to her. You have no idea how her couch fairs in comparison to the one in her office, and you couldn't begin to know if there's any tea in her cupboards.
You throw the lock behind you and watch from the door way as she follows a path you sense is laced in routine. She loses the briefcase, the blazer, the boots and to your amusement her socks.
She turns to you, not fully, more of a hooded glance over her shoulder as she frees her tiny feet. There's a bit more confidence in her now. You know the feeling, it comes with knowing the ground you stand upon is your own, and knowing you'll be the one to stay if things don't go as planned.
"Can I get you anything?" You could swear the question is loaded with hidden meaning. And you find you cannot answer, because there's something extremely erotic about her now bare feet and the smooth graceful movements of her ivory arms in the lavender glow of moonlight. She moves with the grace of a willow in the wind and the stealth of a pixie floating on wings.
Your eyes zero in on her gun and that damn badge she's been hiding behind for a decade. You realize you want- no need -them gone before you can continue. Their very presents taints the air, sure they're the reason you're here, that very weapon has lain to rest the greatest horror either of you has ever known. But it's a connection to the past, a part of you both that cannot exist in this night of monumental new beginnings.
"Um, yeah" You clear your throat, and meet her eyes in the inky twilight of the room. "Could you lose the gun? Please." In an afterthought you make it a request as a pose to the demand it should be.
She nods as the fingers of one hand reflexively graze the hilt, and the other cover the face of her badge. The gesture is apologetic and protective.
Not towards you or even herself you.
They are the pieces of herself she feels make her whole. You're asking her to be someone she's very rarely ever been.
It humbles you to understand how much a part of them she is, when you've watched her put them on the line for you so many times. She's surrendered the very pieces of herself she cannot live without to protect you, and you know in this instant the man you're becoming will need to be dedicated to making gestures of equal devotion. Because quite frankly there's not a part of you left that makes you who you are without her.
"Of course, I'll be right back." She hurries toward the stairs, and stops at the bottom, a foot poised on the first step. "Make yourself at home." And with that she's up and out of sight.
You have two options here, do just as she asks- let's face it she will not be surprised if you do not heed her words- or follow through with what you know you both want.
You move, taking the carpeted stairs two at a time and summon the ability to follow through with your intended actions without letting your mind take over. You grace the landing just in time to watch her open her bedside drawer and gently lay her armor to rest. Before she closes them tightly away you see her place a small weightless object into the oblivion with them, hopefully there will be a time and place down the road to discover her need to hide it and what it may be.
You watch her steal a few calming breaths before she closes the drawer fully and turns to face you, she takes a few fluid steps before she realizes you're actually lounging in her door way as a posed to downstairs where she left you.
XxXxXxX
You fight the hollow feeling brought on by your empty waist line. It dawns on you then, it probably doesn't even skim the surface of how he must be feeling these last three days. You're both stripped of the causes that brought you together and now together you will become something entirely new.
You turn for the door, damp palms swiping the backs of your jeans. You're not completely surprised to find him lounging in your door way, come now, when has he honestly ever listened to you.
His smile is slow and genuine but his gaze is loaded down with all that's left unspoken between you, so you do the only thing you can, and throw yourself into his arms.
There'll be plenty of time to talk later, hopefully, and at this moment you're only sure of what you feel and what you want. And what you most definitely don't want is to risk the chance that you'll never make it past this point. And now that you're pressed up against him you can feel what he wants as well, you let his teeth skim your throat as you send up a thankful prayer to the ceiling.
His mouth is wicked and scorching; it starts fires on your skin and brings to life place you forgot were even reachable. You run your hands along his chest inside his blazer and push it down his arms and to the floor.
You lift your hands above your head and meet his gaze, it's an innocent enough gesture but your body is vibrating with need and you know he can see you shimmer in the barely there light. He fulfills your request and almost too quickly he's lifted you up off the floor, high enough so when you wrap yourself around him your breasts are leveled just so with his mouth. His tongue darts out, hot and lazy, along the curve of one and his name comes out like a hiss through your teeth as you tighten your grip in his hair.
And with the going trend of the evening, you can't seem to stop the dangerous words you've held at bay for years from floating to the very tip of your tongue.
"I love you." God, you've waited so long to say it, the small clear voice inside your head finally letting go of the reins in charge of your need to put your deepest feelings into words. Even awash in passion your mind had kept a tight hold of your heart, wanting to wait until you're both past the point of no return. He is after all the greatest con man you know, so in turn you've set a trap of sorts; wanting to make him feel everything, take him to place he hasn't seen in nearly a decade and then unleash everything he's made you feel over those years.
It would have been a small price to pay to ensure he'd stay.
It's unfortunate you were unable to contain yourself long enough to make it to the bed. Perhaps it's your subconscious, your mind knowing what your heart clearly cannot see.
That if he left, after a moment so intimate, it's quite possible there'd be nothing left for you. And it's best to let the emotions come before he touches you in places you could never forget.
Your heart cannot morn what it does not know, at least that's what you've been telling yourself since you met him.
His eyes meet yours and his mouth ceases roaming. He stills but does not release his hold of your waist. His thumbs brush subtly along the line of your bra directly beneath the silky cups of lace, and it's the only movement in the room aside from both your erratic breathing. He hasn't pulled back, your still flush together, the skin along the curve of your neck is still damp and slightly burned where his teeth have been settled along the curve of your collar bone. One of your hands is beneath his shirt where you know there are small pink paths your nails have left behind.
"Please don't say anything," you beg him, a smile lacing through your voice. You keep the fear locked away somewhere deep enough even he will never see it. As long as he doesn't leave, there's nothing more you need from this moment but for it to continue.
Why taint your declaration with the muddied waters of love unrequited.
His hold on you tightens, painfully, his hands conveying all he can't say, whatever it is that it may be. You'll be bruised tomorrow and if he stays they will be the only proof you have of the pain.
His brow meets your and he pushes you back until the door behind you is nearly holding both your weight. You allow your hands to roam his face, his hair, the tips of your fingers fanning his lashes as his eyes close under the onslaught of power your declaration holds.
"I know you probably know," Your voice is a whisper now, all your knight like bravery slowly slipping away with every moment he remains silent. "maybe you've always known, what is there you don't know."
"Shhh." He begs and within a heartbeat you've been lifted clear off the door. His hands are gentle and a little desperate as he drags you in, chest to chest, his face buried in your shoulder, curtained by the masses of your hair. You hold on tight and you feel the tears you've been fearing leak traitorously down your cheeks.
He loosens his hold to throw the light switch behind you, the setting is now ablaze and it sends shadows hiding in the deepest corners of the room.
He brings your faces together, noses bump in an embrace like the one you left in the CBI elevator only moments before.
"Please," His voice is a whisper, emotion drowns his vocal cords, "Please, Lisbon, say it again."
"God, Jane, I love you."
His weight shifts and he takes the few steps that lead you both to the edge of the bed. He tightens his hold as his knee comes to rest along the edge. He lowers you both and there's a moment of weightlessness so fleeting and pure.
One hand cradles your skull in a gesture you've come to expect and endear; the other slides between your breasts, palm flat, as if to cradle your heart in his hand.
You do not give him the chance to reply, you take his mouth with your own and drag his body closer still. His hips settle within yours and you groan and lift in an impatient display of need.
Your fingers are clumsy, hurried, as they fight their way through the endless buttons of his vest and shirt front. In one swift motion you tug and lift it free from the confines of his slacks.
You reach for his belt next and nimbly work it and button below free. You slip only your fingertips within the band of his briefs and feel the tremor shake him and his body tense.
His mouth abandons your throat and feasts greedily at your lace clad chest. His fingers work quickly to release the front clasp of your bra and the garment is gone and his mouth has returned within the span of a single breath.
His mouth and hands work in tandem, and together they do wicked things that bring you so close to the edge you vision dims.
"Not yet." His voice invades your lust clouded brain and you're suddenly cold. His weight has left the bed but you're limbs won't seem to work so all you offer is a meek sound of protest. If your heart wasn't pounding so hard in your ears you would hear the soft rustle of clothing hitting the floor. When he returns it's just his hands, deafly working the button and zipper of your jeans. His fingers graze the ivory planes of your stomach below your navel and slowly work their way down.
XxXxXxX
She lifts her hips in a demand to be freed from the confines of the only boundary left between you. You take hold of the heavy fabric and tug slower than you want but faster than you should. She moans and you can't be sure if it's more pleasure or demand.
She needs to be coherent and you know she's far from even remotely close to being so. There's so much you need to say, she needs to understand everything you feel now before you follow through and the words become moot.
You know what she's about, she's the same selfless woman she's always been. Giving all and demanding nothing.
Except perhaps for you to continue your way back up to the bed.
You hold yourself up, all your weight on your forearms. You push her hair back from her face, some tendrils sticky with sweat. Her hips lift in search of your own, when she finds what she's after her knees tighten and pull you down towards her, her hands taking hold of you, guiding you where she needs you to be.
"Jane, please." She's begging, your name like a prayer pouring from her lips.
You don't have the opportunity to make the decision of whether or not to make her wait, she's made it for. And she isn't waiting.
Her knees take a tighter hold of your hips and she shoves your left shoulder until your flat on your back. She hovers over you, posed to make the single last connection you have yet to make.
"Lisbon."You don't recognize your own voice. What you hear is a desperate, strangled cry, with undertones begging to be heeded.
But she doesn't, she can't, and you know the instant your bodies connect you're both eternally grateful and desperately sorry you can do nothing but follow her into the dredges of pleasure she's dragged you under.
