Chapter 20 – Quiet Before The Storm
Author's note: Explicit M scene warning. To avoid, read after the first line break.
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She had all the confidence, before at the casino. The card game had put her on a roll, made her blood simmer. But the effect was well-nigh over, and when they crossed the threshold to what looked like a baronial suite no less, she felt like a flickering candle. As soon as she had a door secured between herself and the rest of the world, she leaned on a wall and started tossing her heels.
"That's a statue you're leaning on," Jane said, amused.
The concrete surface started to sway and she pulled away startled. She gawked at the lavish room divider. Jane chuckled, holding an awkward stance in the middle of the room.
She glared at him, then sat on her heels to continue with her task. But her dress was getting in the way. She huffed.
"Hellish thing!" she muttered.
She realized Jane hadn't moved from his position. She raised her eyes to find him gaping at her, his eyes glimmering.
"Look at you," he said softly, a hint of hoarseness in his voice. "An angry little princess."
She had a curse ready at the tip of her tongue, but then he paced to her side and bent on one knee. His arms curled around hers softly. She laid her hands on the inner side of his elbows, almost without thinking. He helped her up, all the while looking at her. Her dress unfolded and filled the place amidst them. He sat down slowly and she could do nothing but stare, bedazzled.
"May I?" he asked, his hand lingering at the hem of her dress.
She nodded quietly.
He lifted the silk fabric. His practiced fingers brushed her skin as he unclasped her shoe, sending instant relief to her bones. She sighed, closing her eyes. Jane held her ankle as he slipped it off her, and then once it was off, he massaged her with his thumb. She eased her neck slightly back, her lips parting from pleasure. Both his hands started kneading the muscles at her foot. She was in heaven.
And then she went even higher, if that was possible. Jane was kissing her calf, leaving a trail with soft touches of his lips and tongue, until she felt him at the vulnerable skin under her knee. She shook on her feet and his hands moved to hold her feet still. A sure grip that became a soft caress. Soon the fabric of the dress slipped from his fingers and completely covered him. So she had only the hint of his touch to guide her of his whereabouts.
He traced her thigh, her hip, her pelvic arch. His hands moved to cap her hips, gripped her tightly. And then his fingers were on top of her underwear, rubbing her hard, up and down and in circles. She let out a sigh. In a feat of passion, Jane hooked his fingers on the side straps of her underwear and pulled it down. He pressed between her feet and she let them slid further apart. His mouth closed over her softness. It took all her strength not to collapse over him. He had the gentlest touch. She felt his tongue on her core, before he ventured inside her.
The air hissed out of her lungs. "Jane." Her voice barely registered sound.
She gathered her dress in a heap, then gently pressed under his arm. He stood upright, his gaze leveling hers. He was disheveled, his curls wild, his irises dark. She probably looked no better. Sweaty. Her eyeliner already sipping into her eye bags. Her lipstick long gone.
Jane dipped his hands inside the hair at her temples and placed her head facing upwards, so that he bent to savor her mouth. Their lips rubbed on each other, trying to adjust themselves further in. She wound her arms around his neck. He freed one hand from her hair to caress her bare shoulder.
"What?" he pulled back and asked, when she mumbled in his mouth.
"The dress," she pleaded. "Save me from the goddamned dress."
Jane spinned her and started undoing the clips.
"How did you manage to button this up anyway?" he wondered, his voice almost a whisper.
"Van Pe-" Her voice trailed off, as he started kissing her neck, then her earlobe. He stopped unclipping her for a short pause, then started again.
"Just rip it off," she said.
But it was already undone. She let go of the heap she was holding, and it slid off her feet entirely, leaving her standing with a single black lace bra. Jane stroked her waist and she turned around, as if his touch were an invitation. They bore into each other's eyes.
"Teresa," Jane whispered. His eyebrows were curled in vulnerability, his face unguarded. She had reached his softest, most fragile part. She stroked his cheek, rubbing off the sheen of sweat. He leaned into her palm, closing his eyes.
When he opened them, they were a lion's eyes. A silent growl echoed in her gut and then, as if their thoughts were in sync, she jumped and he caught her. He walked backwards toward the bed as she kissed him. Until they were falling. She stradled him, unbuttoned his shirt and vest. His hand moved playfully, he hooked a finger on her bra, pulled until her breasts spilled over. She licked his chest, then flashed him a hungry smile.
Her confidence was back.
She rose on top of him and lowered her hand to unbuckle his belt, undo his pants. And then she slipped under, until he breathed sharply. His hand capped the side of her head and he rose to catch her lips between mouth and teeth. She savored him for a moment, then nudged him down and slid off the bed to sit on her knees, the burgundy velvet carpet soft on her skin. He propped himself on his elbows.
"Do you want to do this?" he asked her quietly.
"Yes," she reassured him.
She pulled off his slacks and underwear. She took him in her mouth and he reached with his hand to stroke her hair, her face. He was so much better at this now. Had a months practice. When he was close, she switched to her hands, where he finished.
He groomed himself, laid her underneath and tenderly made love to her, their bodies engaging in a rythmic dance of pleasure and adoration.
They took a shower. There was also a bath tub, but Lisbon considered it would take more time. And they were bound to an early wake. They had arranged for a backpack of fresh clothes and toothbrushes.
He was still pleasantly numb from her touch, could not take it of his mind. But as the seconds ticked toward sleeping time, the ever-lurking worry crept into his conscious.
Tomorrow was the day. The first of a series. He would have to gather all his courage, all his slyness. He would have to look into that dark pit of his soul and not flinch. He doubted he would get any z's tonight, the adrenaline already building up in his veins. Lisbon avoided looking at him once she started her nightly routine and he realized she must have been nervous as well.
When they finally lay down, he turned on his side and pulled her in his arms. He hugged her so tight, as if hoping he would lock her in his skin, where she would always be protected.
"Jane," she choked after a while, "I'm not going to die."
He loosened his grip, let her move so she could see him. She glowed softly under the secret lighting on the head of the bed. He smiled a wistful smile, then grew serious.
"I am sorry," he said. "I know I acted on impulse today. I didn't mean to upset you."
Lisbon shook her head. "No, I am sorry. It was unfair how you heard my decision like this."
"Yes it probably was," he admitted. "But it's not like I would change your mind if you told me in private," he said, trying to sound light.
Lisbon rolled her eyes.
He rubbed her arm. "Hey, let's not be sulky tonight," he said, his voice thin, gentle.
Lisbon nodded. "'Kay," she mumbled.
He tucked her hair behind her ear, then leaned to place a soft kiss on her lips. She was still nervous, she had already adjusted her feet five times.
"I can help you relieve tension, if you want," he said.
Lisbon seemed to fight the idea at first, but they both knew she would need to be alert tomorrow, and perhaps the next day. She turned on her back, closed her eyes and exhaled, as a gesture of letting him.
"Let my voice guide you," Jane started. "Breathe. Deeply. Imagine your tummy is a baloon that you're filling with air. Keep it blown, don't let it deflate yet." He paused.
Lisbon waited, holding her breath. It was this moment or never, he considered. He knew she would hate him for it. Maybe she would never even forgive him. But at least she would be alive and angry, not dead and… nothing.
"Now let it out. The baloon is blowing out, along with all the tension in your muscles. It's evaporating." He carefully moved his hand, watching her, and placed light pleasure on the inside of her wrist.
"The baloon is almost flattened now. You're drifting. And by the time no air is left, you'll be fast asleep. Sleep, Teresa. Almost out of air now. Aand, it's flat."
She was motionless, lips parted. He reached out and pressed her wrist again. Her eyes fluttered open. She took a deep breath and turned on her side, tugging on the covers.
"Thanks, Jane," she mumbled, before surrendering to deeper sleep.
"No problem," he said, for the dark to listen.
A/N: I never wrote that separate M chapter I promised some ages ago, so I thought I should include a second one in the main story to make up for it.
Thank you Diana, Miniminichen, Munkeyfump20 and guests!