Authors Note: This is my third story for the Mentalist. What better way to pass the COVID quarantine than with some Jisbon smut? All mistakes are mine. Stay safe everyone.

Reviews are love, leave some...unless its rude...then back off. Constructive criticism is welcome, but rude...not so much.

-Krystle

Her breath had evened out shortly after he started playing with her hair. He's still wondering when 'Livin' on a Prayer' became classified as a lullaby, but he didn't question it. He's still worried about the operation. Now that he has Teresa, even though he knows her going into dangerous situations is one of her main job descriptions, doesn't mean he has to like it or worry about her any less.

He can't stand the thought of anything happening to her. He wouldn't survive if she didn't come home at the end of the day. Every time he closes his eyes he imagines the worst outcome. He sighs, and slips from her embrace, causing her to stir in her sleep and mumble incoherently. He kisses the top of her head and whispers, "I'll be right back, love."

She smiles in her sleep, and lets out a small sigh. He smoothes her hair once more, and then walks into the tiny bathroom space. He grabs the wash cloth hanging on the wall and dampens it, runs it over his face, and then stares at himself in the mirror. He's going to protect her at all costs, even if it ends up pissing her off. At lease she'll be alive to be pissed at him. With a curt nod to himself, he finishes up in the bathroom and heads back to bed.

She's pulled the pillow he was laying on closer to her, her face buried in it. She admitted to him a few nights ago that she can no longer sleep unless she's with him. She's grown accustomed to having him in her arms, and his scent calms her. Or so she's said. He smiled at that, he can't sleep with out her either; well, when he can sleep that is.

He gently takes the pillow from her grasp and resumes his position beside her, she shifts, placing her head back on his shoulder, and her right hand on his chest over his heart. God, he loves her. He senses she's awake - her breath is no longer even.

Her hand starts rubbing soothing circles over his chest, until she reaches for the buttons at the top of his pajama shirt. Her tiny fingers work the first two buttons free and slides her hand underneath the fabric, skin on skin, finally. She's seducing him; trying to get his mind off of tomorrow. He'd be lying if he said it wasn't working. This woman has a power over him. She's slid her leg over his, moving impossibly closer to him. The heat of her is slowly starting to drive him mad.

His shirt is open now, she's attached herself to his neck. She nips, sucks and licks until she's satisfied. Her traveling hand pushes the night shirt off of his shoulder and continues down his abdomen until she reaches the waistband of his pajama pants. His hand shoots out and grabs her by the wrist, causing her to look up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Her head shifts, and she's kissing his neck again, working up to his jaw, until finally she reaches his lips. He meets her half way, and she groans as his tongue sweeps her mouth. He grabs her waist and hoist her so she's now laying fully on top of him. How the hell is she still wearing clothes?

Breaking their kiss, he gives her a crooked smile and rolls until she's under him, her little squeak of surprise makes him smile wider as he leans down and attacks her neck, grinning to himself when she rolls her head further into the pillow to give him better access. He works his way down her neck, to her shoulder, sliding the thin strap down her arm. She slips her arm the rest of the way out of the strap, and frees its twin, groaning when her lover slides the material down her abdomen freeing her breasts.

She can feel his length on her thigh, still trapped in the confines of his pajama bottoms. She wiggles her hips teasingly, causing him to take a sharp breath. She bites her bottom lip as she feels his hands open her legs, she feels his hot breath on her sex and arches her back. His hands caress her thighs, his lips press a trail of gentle kisses just above where she needs him most. Finally, he reaches her her center, stroking her folds with his fingers, as they slip passed her opening, he slides his thumb over her clit, massaging the little bundle.

"You're so wet," he whispers against her skin, blazing a trail of kisses up her abdomen.

"For you, always," she manages to get out. "Oh, Patrick," she breathes, as his lips circle around her breast, licking and flicking the nipple, making it rise to a hardened peak.

Once satisfied, he moves to the other, and reaches for Teresa's free hand, attaching it to her breast, instructing her to keep satisfying herself as he continues his journey south.

All the fantasies she had in the past about Patrick's lips on her skin don't even compare to the real thing. From their first night together, he exceeded any fantasy she dreamed up. No man has ever had this much power over her. While she's usually the one in charge, she loves that he's in charge when they're intimate.

"Please," she almost sobs, and reaches for the waistband of his pajamas. "Please, I want you inside."

Once he's free from the garment, she pulls him down for a hungry kiss, hooking one leg around his hip. Wiggling underneath him, teasing him, she smiles as he moans into her mouth. One of his hands slip from her and she grabs it back. "No, not tonight."

"But-"

"I want all of you, nothing between us," she whispers, looking him in the eyes, hoping that he can see how much she loves him, wants him. "Patrick, please."

That's all the convincing he needs, he smiles at her, leans down to capture her lips once more and grabs the back of her thigh, holding it to his body as he slips inside her. He catches her groan in his mouth, as he buries himself deeply in her warmth.

He sighs her name as her muscles clinch around him and her hands run through his hair. Being with Teresa is something he's never going to get used to. He starts moving within her; her hips meeting him thrust for thrust.

"Oh god, yes," she sighs into his neck. "Harder, please."

He changes the angle, moving the leg that is high on his waist he until it's resting on his shoulder with him on his knees. The change in position causes him to reach deeper inside her, and the groan of pleasure she lets out, her head thrown back as far as it will go, her back arched so much he's worried her spine will break tells him that she's enjoying the change as much as he is.

She's fisting the sheets with one hand, and is holding on to his forearm with the other. Each thrust of his hips has her climbing higher to a state of euphoria. He's never seen anything more beautiful than Teresa when she's being loved.

He can tell she's getting close to release by the way she's biting her lower lip and contracting around him. "Let go, love."

Her head thrashes from side to side, "Mm, no…not…not yet…with you, please…oh, god, Patrick."

He's moved one of his hands between them, finding her clit, massaging it roughly. "I'm with you, Reese, I'm always with you."

"Promise."

"I promise. I'm with you," he groans, picking up the pace of his thrusts and ministrations on her nerves. "I love you, Teresa."

Those words are her undoing, her muscles grip him and she calls out to the heavens above. He follows her, tumbling over the edge, dropping her leg from his shoulder to cover her body. She wraps her arms and legs around him, holding him to her and inside her for as long as she can. Their foreheads touch, and she searches for his mouth, capturing his lips in a bruising kiss.

"I love you, Patrick," she returns. "I love you so much."