AN: Hello, all! I have to thank everyone for the amount of reviews and the quality of reviews I've received for this story. Every kind of review has been so positive in criticism, and I thank you all for your opinions, thoughts, and for sharing what you want to see happen in this story.

Apologies that this chapter has taken so long, but it was out of my control. There was a sudden death in my small, beautiful, immediate family, and shock/grief/funeral arrangements have kept me from doing anything normal. Let's all blame the universe for that one!

So we're now back to chapter one, and moving on from there. The first half of this story IS chapter one. I figured that I'd just pop it in here in case people choose not to read the author's note and get confused. There is nothing added to this first section. New material begins after the first line break, so if you remember the details of chapter one, there's no need to read the first half.

I hope that you enjoy the new material! Lots of reviewers were asking for more of Maura's point of view, so I hope you find this chapter satisfying in that regard!

Again, thank you.

Jane follows Maura towards the bedroom. With dark eyes and a hammering heart, she watches Maura's hips sway. Jane thinks that Maura's petite waist is beautiful. She wants to touch it. To grab it. To wrap her arms around it. Around Maura. The hair that falls over Maura's shoulders is perfectly styled, even at this late hour, after all day at work. Jane knows from experience how soft it is to touch. Just like Maura. Like her hands. Like her lips. Jane feels warm all over. She can't help but stare at the way Maura's dark blouse clings to her delicate back. At the impression of Maura's bra at her sides. Lace? Satin? Jane licks her lips, and labels arousal as nervousness. As reluctance. As confusion.

As beautiful as Maura is, Jane doesn't know how this, their first time, is going to work.

Because Jane is not gay. And neither is Maura.

Maura turns off the bathroom light, and suddenly, the hallway seems much darker. The bedroom light is on, guiding them. Jane glances down at the heels of Maura's bare feet. Maura is comfortable. Maura wants this. Maura is more than ready. While she's taken off her shirt to eat the pizza she bought home for them in just her tank top, Jane is still wearing her work boots. In boots, she's at least a head taller than Maura. Jane likes this. The height difference turns her on. Makes her feel stronger, like Maura idolises and adores her more than she already does.

The wind is louder the closer they get to Maura's bedroom, as it always is at this end of the house. When they reach the bedroom, climbing the three steps to the door, Maura steps aside, a full wine glass in each calm, steady hand. She props the door open with the tilt of her hip. She smiles at Jane, that loving, adoring smile that says I trust you. It is strange, in that moment, that Jane has never felt so distant from her best friend. It must be because this is different. This is sex. Sex with her best friend. And even though Jane's thought about it (what Maura looks like naked, the sounds she would make, how she would move beneath Jane, above Jane, against Jane, how she would taste and writhe and lick and fuck), she doesn't know if this is something that she actually wants.

Maura is an awkward friend and person. But as she places the wine glasses far from the bed, all the way across the room on her dresser, she moves towards Jane with a raw sexual energy. Maura is relaxed like this. And even though Maura is not gay, has surprisingly never been with a woman, and has only so much as kissed Jane, it is clear that Maura knows exactly what to do in the bedroom.

Jane sits on the bed, rubs her sweaty palms against her dark suit pants. Maura watches Jane for a moment before she moves back to the door. She's locking it, Jane realises. And then there's a click. When Maura turns and rests her back against the door, full breasts pressed against the silk of her burgundy shirt, bottom lip caught between pearly teeth, hipbones sharp against her white pencil skirt, Jane thinks about all of the ways that this could happen.

Maura sighs. Jane stills her movements. When she raises her eyes to Maura's…there is an explosion of emotion. Of lust. Desire. Panic.

"If you don't want to do this," Maura starts, "…we don't have to."

"I want to do this."

"Do you?"

"I love you, Maur."

"You love me like a friend."

Jane is quiet. She doesn't correct Maura. Friendship. Companionship. Happiness. An end to loneliness. Family, eventually. Maybe. A world of possibility. And that is what this thing, this agreement was supposed to be about. Sex…sex was never supposed to be a part of this.

But Maura is looking at Jane with need and rejection shining in her eyes. She wants to be loved. God, Jane does love her, in so many ways. In confusing ways. The usual friendly way that she always has. But these last six months…there is something else. Something new. Something sexual. It's a growing passion that aches inside of Jane, but it feels utterly fantastic, even under lock and key.

"I like kissing you," Jane shares, and Maura's fallen expression brightens.

"I like kissing you, too, Jane."

I know. I feel it. Every time. On the couch. In your office. In our bed when you whisper 'goodnight'.

Maura's chest heaves. "You're a wonderful kisser."

Jane leans back on the bed, her palms spread out to hold herself up in an attempt to appear more relaxed, like she can do this. Confidence is sexy.

Jane pats the mattress. Maura pushes herself from the door. She smooths her skirt beneath herself as she sits next to Jane. Jane draws her eyes away from the curve of Maura's behind, tries to imagine what it's going to be like to unzip that skirt and touch silky skin and press her fingers against heat...

Maura interrupts Jane's thought process when she reaches up, and, with gentle fingers, rakes that stubborn strand of hair away from Jane's line of sight. Her fingers trail over Jane's scalp, fingernails tickling. Jane's eyes close involuntarily. She leans into the touch. Can't help herself. Maura's fingers feel so good, so delicate. Affectionate.

Words spill from Jane's lips. "I just…I know I'm nervous, and I know you can see that, but I don't want to mess things up."

"Jane, you're not going to mess anything up," Maura whispers, her devotion to Jane so real and true.

Jane opens her eyes again. She swallows as Maura's fingers trace the neckline of her tank top. It feels good. Too good. Maura is distracting her from the guilt, the responsibility. "What if we're not compatible like this?"

Maura raises an eyebrow and runs a fingertip beneath the neckline, just brushing the very top of Jane's right breast.

Jane reaches for that hand, and grasps it in her own. "No, Maura, just listen. What if we get naked and vulnerable and it's really, really bad?" She lets go of Maura's hand. "I'm not like you. I can't just make things work in the bedroom if they can't."

Maura draws her hands back into her own lap. "I know you get scared."

"I'm not scared." Jane leans forward, elbows on knees, head in her hands. "I'm just…we're not gay, Maura. God. We went into this with a no sex rule for a reason."

"Rule? There weren't any rules. You asked me how far it would go in the bedroom and I said that we'd take things slowly. See what happened."

Jane's heart is pounding. Fear. Excitement. She has no idea what she is saying. "You said that it wasn't about sex. That it was about commitment."

"It doesn't matter what I said, Jane. It's been six months, Jane, and I need to be touched."

Jane swallows. "Companionship, Maura. You wanted safety, and I've given you that."

Maura runs a hand through her own hair. Jane has pissed her off. She watches as Maura stands and untucks her short-sleeved blouse from her tight skirt. Maura opens the closet doors, her back to Jane. "You say you're not gay, but you're attracted to me, whether you like it or not. You're possessive, Jane."

Jane scoffs.

Maura twirls on the spot.

"No. Don't scoff at me. You don't like the way men look at me, and I get that. You've always been like that. But now it's different. I still don't know what happened between you and Timothy Granger last week, but I know it was about me, Jane. I know he said something to you about us, about me, and you didn't like it."

Jane jumps up from the bed and reaches for her wine glass. She's heard enough about that. Fuck Timothy Granger. Fuck everyone. She drains the glass. "I told you that I don't want to talk about that ever again, Maura. Don't bring it up again."

Maura huffs. "Fine. That's for you to decide. You're the one who hit a man. But you can't pretend that you don't enjoy protecting me. You get a rush from it, Jane. Because you want me."

Jane draws in a shaky breath, and perches herself on the other side of the bed. Maura's side. Closer to the closed window. Somehow, closer to air. Jane is suffocating.

Silence. A cry of the wind.

"I love you, Jane. As a friend, and I want to love you in other ways," Maura is calm. Jane wants to be calm. Maura's calmness brings tears to Jane's eyes. Tears only make Jane more confused. "But you have to let me. Otherwise, I think we're both going to be very frustrated and lonely for the rest of our lives."

Jane tears at the zipper of her boots, throwing them against the carpet in irritation. "Lonely? The whole point of doing this, of being together, was so that we'd never be lonely. So that we'd always have each other."

The bed dips behind Jane. She can feel the heat of Maura's body behind her as the doctor kneels on the mattress. Jane sighs as Maura presses her thumbs into Jane's muscles. Jane licks her lips, and thinks before she speaks. "If we just keep things the way they are, just kissing, just sleeping, just," Jane blushes, "…holding each other, why can't that be enough?"

Maura sees straight through the façade, the want, the confusion. "Jane, people already think we're a lesbian couple. Your mother, your brothers, our colleagues. They think we've fallen love. We told them that because you didn't want them to think that either of us was settling. Settling for each other because we couldn't find real love with men. So, if everyone already thinks we're in love, making love, why are you so reluctant to just try to be with me in that way?"

Jane is quick to retort, and when she does, the words taste metallic on her tongue. "Because I'm not gay. And you're not gay. We're not really attracted to each other, Maura. C'mon, we both know that."

Maura is quiet, but she does not cease the movement of her fingers, pressing into Jane, relieving the tension. And, fuck, it feels so good to have Maura's warm hands against her bare skin.

"Do you remember last Sunday after family dinner?" Maura whispers in question, her lips pressed against the shell of Jane's ear. "We were in the kitchen, and you thanked me. You told me that you were happy with me."

Jane's eyes slip closed and she nods.

"You kissed me."

"I like kissing you," Jane repeats.

"I know." Fuck. Maura's breath is hot and wet against her neck. Jane need a long drink of water. More wine. She doesn't even like wine that much. "I like kissing you, too," Maura adds. "But Jane…you touched me, really, for the first time. Your hand…you touched me beneath my shirt, against my rib cage. You pulled me closer, pressed my leg between yours. You moaned."

"Maura…" Jane warns, her voice hoarse and the space between her legs begging to be touched by somebody other than herself. It's been a long time since she's even done that. Sleeping in a bed with Maura has its rewards (goodnight kisses, Maura's curves moulded to Jane's, listening as Maura gets herself off hours after she thinks Jane's fallen asleep). But Jane hasn't dared to find release in Maura's bed since the day she moved in. And the one time she had given in, lost control during a simple kiss, Maura had noticed. Noted it. Stored it to use against Jane in her moment of weakness. Only for good, of course. Maura Isn't manipulative. Maura Is too good for that.

Maura presseS her lips against Jane's neck. "Last night, you offered to try this. Last night, you seemed comfortable at the idea of being intimate with me. Jane, you need to stop thinking so much."

Jane turns her body on the bed, and suddenly, Maura's lips capture hers. Nip. Slide. Pressure. Jane's lips part slowly, hesitantly, and Maura's tongue is in a desperate hurry to slide against Jane's. Wet. Warm. Hot, heavy breaths. Jane just wants to push Maura back against the bed, press a leg between Maura's and grind them to orgasm. Fully clothed, she doesn't care. She wants Maura.

Oh, God. If only Jane was good enough. If only she wouldn't lose control. If only this was the right thing to do. If only she was sure that she was in love with this woman. Because really, aren't they just using each other? That must be the reason. It has to be the reason why Maura wants Jane so much. She's not in love with her blue-collar detective. Maura…Maura is just content.

Fuck. Who cared?

Jane's hands come to feel the smoothness of Maura's jaw. Jane angles their kiss, makes it deeper and fuller and wetter. But when Maura's hands grasp at Jane's waist, Jane slows. She has to be careful. She can't let them rush this. There's too much want. Too much need. Too much fucking frustration that she can never, ever let Maura see. Because if this doesn't work, god, if Jane isn't good enough as a lover, maybe, maybe they can just go back to companionship and forever. If Maura's just using her for sex, and commitment too, maybe they can just not be lonely together. That way, Maura will never have to know how desperately Jane wants to make love to her, to make Maura hers.

"Let's take this slowly," Jane breathes. She runs her hands, her shaky fingers over Maura's gorgeous neck. This woman is warm all over. So different to Jane.

"We have all night," Maura whispers seductively. Jane blushes at the mere thought. All night with Maura. Hot, wet, aroused Maura. Her best friend. Oh god, Jane is so far in denial. At least one of them isn't using the other. Jane is in love with Maura. She knows it when Maura sighs, when their lips meet again. All that Maura has to do is kiss her and Jane loses control.

Maura runs her thumbs up and down the ribbing of Jane's tank top, presses them against Jane's abdomen. There's a fire between Jane's legs now, and Jane's amazed that it's burning so strongly because she's so goddamn wet. She's aching and Maura hasn't even touched her naked skin.

"Maura…"

"Mmm…" Maura's lips trail along Jane's jaw. Jane dares to feel the silk of Maura's blouse at her back. It feels good. The heat of Maura's body beneath it feels even better. It almost burns away the mass of guilt that's been building on Jane's shoulders since the first time they tried kissing, the first time Maura held her as they slept. Oh god, Jane knows that her nipples are so hard. She fights to keep her hips from moving on the mattress.

Maura's hands touch the buckle of Jane's belt. Jane pulls away from the kiss, unable to disguise her panting breaths.

"Maura," Maura's lips latch onto the muscles between Jane's shoulder and neck. She bites there, softly. Jane swallows harshly at the sound of Maura's desperate little grunt. "Sweetheart…I want this to be about you tonight."

Maura kisses her way up Jane's neck, shaking her head as she goes. "Not just me. Us." She's refusing Jane's request. She sucks on Jane's earlobe, runs her hot tongue over the skin. Jane closes her eyes and swallows a moan. Maura's lips press against her ear again. "I want to touch you, Jane. I want to make love to you."

Jane doesn't think. She doesn't mean what she says. But she says it anyway.

"I don't want that."

Maura pulls back, arousal quickly turning to pain. And not the pleasurable kind. "What do you mean you don't want that?"

Jane gazes at Maura, trying to focus her eyes, to think of something to say. But Maura doesn't give her time to focus. Maura pulls herself away from Jane. Jane tries to reach for her, whispers, "Maura", and wraps her fingers around Maura's frail wrist, but Maura can't even look at Jane as she roughly peels them away.

The blonde pads across the room for her wine glass. She picks it up, swallows what is left, and leaves it next to Jane's empty glass. She shoots an angry glare at Jane as she moves toward the door. Jane swallows, but is slightly relieved. At least Maura is angry. Angry Maura is better than Hurt and Disappointed Maura.

Angry Maura unlocks the door.

"Maura," Jane tries again, thinking that there's no hope left tonight.

Maura surprises Jane when she turns at the doorway. "Jane, when you figure out what it is that you want from this…commitment…please tell me. I'll be here. I'm always going to be here with you. We decided that months ago, and married to you or not, I am a woman of my word. But we need rules from now on. I need to know what this is. You need to tell me what this is. Because I am tired of feeling guilty for pressuring you into sex, when you're the one who looks at me and touches me like I'm the love of your life."

Jane was awake until three am in the guest bedroom, thinking, figuring, trying to work it all out. The bed was uncomfortable, different, but even asking to sleep in their bed seemed asking for too much. The two am realisation that she hadn't slept in the guest bedroom for five months told her that somewhere along the line, something between Maura and Jane had changed.

Maura.

Jane pushed her hand beneath her panties, and touched herself. Minutes later, when she came, it was the thought of Maura's hands at her buckle that sent Jane into a rich, throbbing orgasm.

And that should have changed everything.

I want it to feel like it's real, Maura had said.

That, Jane was sure she could do.

But when the time came, too real was what Jane was afraid of.

"I thought I could pretend for you, but I can't. It hurts too much."

Maura swallows, and brings her fingers to her clavicle. She ignores the deep hurt in Jane's tone, because what Jane's saying could mean more than pretending when it comes to sex. It could mean faking their entire romantic relationship. Maura will not let that happen. She won't even discuss it. They're in too deep.

Standing in the middle of the living room, Maura watches the way Jane's expression hardens as she draws her hands away from her face. She looks wild. Frustrated. Maura had started this, yes, but Jane had been the one who had come to her in the morgue and asked Maura to come home early. They needed to talk. Really talk. But now it seems that talking, or being around Maura, is the last thing Jane wants.

"I want to be close to you, Jane."

The detective doesn't even glance up at Maura, so the blonde tries again, a different approach this time.

"Does being close to me, intimate with me…does it hurt because you're keeping something hidden?" she asks lowly. "Or does it hurt because you don't feel anything for me at all in that way? Jane, what hurts to pretend?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"It feels like an act," Jane erupts. "I don't want to pretend that I'm making love to you."

For a long moment, Maura's mind plays on the way Jane stresses 'pretend'. She doesn't want to pretend. She wants it to be real. Jane wants it that way because Jane's heart is pure. Sex isn't just pleasure to Jane. For hard, strong, brave Jane Rizzoli, sex is only ever making love.

Too quickly, Maura's soaring heart falls.

"That's not us," Jane continues. "We're just friends. We either call it, and make it just sex, or we don't do anything like that, not even kissing. Don't ask me to blur the lines, Maura. It hurts me. It makes me feel like I'm not enough for you."

And that's what this really comes down to, Maura realises as she tries to blink away the tears welling in her eyes. She knows Jane is lying, and she knows what this is about. They're no longer friends, and there's no way Jane isn't as profoundly curious about what they'd be like together as Maura is. Jane wants this, but she doesn't want Maura to know it. There's too much to lose.

Maura wraps her arms tighter around her body. "You're enough for me. Please don't hide whatever you're feeling from me because you think that it's easier for you to lose me than it is for me to lose you."

From the couch, Jane looks up at Maura with blank eyes, and the doctor knows that she's found it, voiced it, felt it. Jane's deepest, most painful fear.

"It's not like that, Jane." Maura moves to slowly sit down on the couch, keeping some distance between them, but not too much to make Jane notice. She reaches over and takes elegant, trembling fingers in her hands. "I love you," Maura whispers. "I love you in so many ways, ways that I probably shouldn't, that I don't really understand…"

Jane's eyes widen, and Maura dares to glance over and meet the gaze of the woman she falls into bed with every night. The same woman she kisses every good morning. Jane, who always remembers to refrigerate their left over pizza when Maura forgets. Jane, who asks TJ where Auntie Maura is. Jane, who makes jokes about getting Maura pregnant. Jane. Her best friend.

"It's okay to not be sure," Maura breathes, and boldly reaches over to rake her fingernails through the curly hair at the side of Jane's temple. The brunette quivers, and closes her eyes at the sensation. "It's okay to just be who we are…and ask for what we want. Just because it's new doesn't mean that it doesn't have…substance."

With Jane's eyes closed, Maura feels safe to watch as Jane wets her lips with her tongue. I want to kiss her, Maura thinks. You can't, an old voice sneers just like it used to on those odd occasions Maura would find herself thinking and wondering and contemplating Jane, Jane, Jane, before any of this began. There's a lot at stake if Jane doesn't listen and let it be. Maybe I'll never even kiss her again.

Turning to face Jane more fully, and continuing to trail her fingers through Jane's hair, Maura drops her gaze hopelessly as she listens to Jane try to steady her breath. Her stare falls on Jane's breasts in her black button down. The tops of tan curves are just visible beneath the dark fabric, and Maura lingers as she feels her whole body warm all over. Visible too, is Maura to Jane, whose eyes are open, watching, intrigued, as Maura's stare narrows. But Maura can't help it. She imagines wrapping her lips around a nipple she knows would be dark, because she sees them though singlets, and brushes them sometimes, always by accident, in bed. And she knows it sounds silly, but the way they sometimes harden beneath her palm, or finger tips…they feel dark.

Jane is the first one to break the silence, and Maura, caught, instantly drops her hand and looks up into brown eyes at the sound of Jane's raspy lilt. "Sometimes I look at you…and you're not Maura. I mean, you're not the Maura, Dr Isles, everyone else gets to see."

Maura watches as Jane's fingers tap against her knee. It's so normal, so right for Jane to trail them up and down Maura's thigh, just as she always does. But not now. No more loving touches. Not anymore. Maura can almost feel the itch in Jane's fingers.

"Like last night," Jane continues, removing her hands and sitting further back into the cushions, "when you came home from yoga in your tights and that tank top, wearing those glasses? You weren't Maura. You were someone new. Someone sweaty, with glasses and workout clothes and your eyeliner smudged. Not that I've never seen you with your glasses, or in workout clothes, or any of that. It's just, all of it together kind of blew me away. That was someone I've never met before. For a moment I wondered, is she mine?" Maura bites her lip at the confession of Jane's possession. "It's still you, Maur. I'm finally seeing that person no one has ever met before."

"You don't like that?" Maura questions.

Jane pauses for a long moment until her stormy, troubled eyes meet Maura's.

"I like it too much."

The flush of warm heat that spreads across Maura' skin is all-consuming. Maura is desperate. She's never wanted anyone this badly.

"Would it be better to not pretend anything? To just…do it?" Please. "Even if it…confuses us a little?"

"Yes," Jane agrees after a moment, trying to ignore the blatant need in Maura's questions. Jane reaches for Maura's hand, and pulls on it slightly. Maura moves closer to hear Jane's whisper. "I just want it to be about you."

Shifting onto her knees, Maura buries her face in the crook of Jane's neck. "I don't want it to be just about me."

"Well it has to be," she hears Jane dictate. "I don't want this for me."

Maura stiffens.

"I don't mean it like that, Maur."

There's a warm hand on the small of Maura's back, circling, warming Maura's already too-hot skin. "It's just…look at you. You're so beautiful. So beautiful. But I think with all the focus on sex and stuff, it's making me think that I want you for your body. I just love you, that's all."

"Do you love me like a sister?" Maura presses, knowing just how to get under Jane's skin.

"You know I don't."

Not having to look at Jane makes it all the more easier. "Then would it be so terrible for you to want my body as well as my companionship?" Maura presses closer. "You're denying it." Jane shudders at the sensation of Maura's hot breath on her neck. "I know you, Jane."

Jane shifts away abruptly, and sighs. "You think you do."

Maura purses her lips, and waits. "Look, here's the thing," Jane starts. "I want you. I know I want you. I want you so much that it hurts sometimes. But I don't need, I don't want, for you to want me. I just want to need you. Can't you see the difference in that?" Maura stares blankly at Jane, the hopeful light gone from her already dark, desperate eyes. "That difference means that this isn't sexual. Just romantic."

"There is no truth in that," Maura undermines Jane's lie, her voice even and true. "You're naïve if you think the difference exists."

"You're the one who said it did!" Jane exclaims. "That kissing was just romantic, not sexual!"

"It was," Maura agrees softly, reaching for Jane's hands, trying to calm her. "At first." Feeling Jane's stare trying to catch her eye, Maura blushes, and finds that she cannot look up if she wants to continue. "I can't help it, Jane," she gushes. "Do you think it's weak to want someone to desire you? Because I do." Maura's fingers trail over the bared skin of Jane's strong, feminine forearm. "I desire you. Your mind. Your heart. Your body."

Even though her chin is still touching her chest, Maura can sense Jane's eyes boring into her own. "I'm so confused," Jane breathes unevenly.

And I'm in love with you. Maura looks up. "I'm sorry, Jane."

The apology is simple. Too simple, like final words that sum up everything. Simple enough to be misconstrued for Do you think we should end this? And that is exactly how Jane interprets the words.

Brief panic consumes the detective. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter," Jane rushes, and pulls Maura closer. Watching fright flitter through Jane's eyes, Maura shifts on her knees, and doesn't hesitate to straddle Jane on the couch in order to hold her, really hold her. Not the way best friends hold each other, with spaces of distance in between, but the way lovers hold each other, too close to breathe. "It doesn't have to hurt anymore," Jane comforts as her fingers splay into Maura's hairline at the back of her neck. "Let's not make this anymore than it is okay? We've been so happy these last few weeks. Let's not ruin that just because of sex."

"It's not just about sex. You know that, right?" Maura almost pants as she presses her body more completely against Jane's, the fullness of her breasts pressing against the tops of Jane's. "I'm not asking for this just because I want to be touched. You do that already. I just…I want to be closer to you, and it's making me…"

Maura trails off at the feeling of Jane's fingers sliding down her back, around the curve of her waist, and between them. Maura gasps as Jane's shaky fingers flick the button of Maura's pants open, and quickly lower the zipper.

"Jane?" Maura breathes hotly, confused and excited.

Jane doesn't raise her gaze to meet Maura's. Not when she slides her long, demanding fingers around to Maura's backside and beneath black cotton to push Maura's pants and panties down her thighs. Not when she feels the heat of Maura's naked flesh disappear as she raises up on her knees to push her pants down to give Jane more access. And certainly not when Maura lowers and she sees pink, hairless flesh between Maura's legs for the first time.

"Jane?"

"Just let me help you." Maura watches the way Jane's jaw clenches as her gaze remains downcast. "I can touch you and then we can just be happy again," she rasps. "It doesn't matter, baby. It doesn't matter."

Maura's eyes slipped closed in relief of Jane's gentleness, but her body sparks at the tension between them.

When Jane's lone middle finger presses lightly just below her navel and stops, Maura thinks that this is going to be slow, torturous. But when that single finger trails quickly down, down to press against Maura's clit, Maura cries out.

That finger separates her and rests between her flesh. Jane drags it up quickly and purposefully. "Jane!" Maura whimpers desperately, and reaches a hand between their bodies to stop Jane's fingers from moving the quick pace Jane seemed intent on touching Maura with. Through Jane's shirt, Maura can feel the heat radiating from Jane's taut belly against the back of her hand.

Jane looks up, and their eyes meet.

"I'm not ready just yet." Maura expels a shudder as she watches Jane gulp.

"It's okay, it's okay," Jane soothes. "What should I do?" she husks, and pulses her finger in an up and down motion between Maura's legs.

"Anything."

Jane dips her head again, watching her own hand. She cups Maura, circling her palm for a long moment. Still, Maura is barely wet.

"Just…run your finger between..." Maura instructs.

Jane runs her finger too fast. Maura squirms.

"Lightly."

"Okay."

"Slower, Jane."

"Just like that?"

"Yes."

Moments pass, and Jane keeps the same rhythm. They barely move, and only the sounds of their desperate breaths fill the room. But at Maura's first low moan, Jane looks up, and their eyes meet.

Jane feels a sudden gush of wetness coat her finger.

"You're wet."

Maura leans forward and presses a hot open mouthed kiss to the side of Jane's neck as she settles more fully against Jane.

Jane dares to slide another finger against Maura. She presses harder. And then it happens. The tip of her finger slides into Maura. Jane has to know what Maura feels like. She has to know.

Maura pulls back and their gazes lock again. Jane presses another finger into Maura, and curls them up into the blonde.

The way Maura's lips part in a gasp makes Jane dizzy.

Finally.

"Does it feel okay?" Jane asks. She pushes her fingers in and out of Maura, dragging quickly, harshly.

"Yeah," Maura manages as she watches Jane's face redden. "It feels good." Maura's hips thrust to meet Jane's touch. Jane has no idea how badly Maura needed this. How badly they need this. "Just slow down," Maura whimpers as she grips Jane's fingers. "I can't come like this. I can't come so fast."

Maura reaches between them again, and guides Jane's thumb to her clit. Taking the silent instruction, Jane drags her thumb down over the side of Maura's clit. "Do you need harder?"

Maura groans and her forehead falls to Jane's shoulder. "I don't care. Just…don't stop."

Jane swallows. She watches the way Maura leans forward and back, riding Jane's fingers as she grips the back of the couch. Maura is tight, hot. Wet. She's straddling her so closely that Jane feels the back of her wrist bump between her own legs. That's when the realisation occurs to Jane. I'm wet. Jane curls her finger harder against Maura's core.

With a gasp, Maura sits up so fast that Jane slides out of her.

"Maura, just…let me…"

"I'm so close. Please, Jane."

Jane grunts from exertion, and unashamedly watches the way Maura's features contort with pleasure as Jane's fingers find their place between hot swollen folds once more. What Jane really wants is to lay Maura down on their bed and fuck her. Instead she pulls her closer with a hand at the small of her back. Maura's hands leave the couch, and pull at Jane's shoulders, pressing them together, Jane's lips falling to Maura's flushed, freckled sternum.

Maura is silent as she comes, holding on to Jane and flicking her hips against Jane's touch. Jane feels the way Maura tightens and pulses around her, and knows that, fulfilling Maura, she's never felt more fulfilled in her own self.

It's not about pleasure, Jane realises as Maura goes limp in her arms with Jane inside of her.

It's about all kinds of release.