CHAPTER SIX
She doesn't knock, just lets herself in. Finds Maura's door unlocked anyway, as it always has been for her and she smiles. Some things are still very much the same as she remembers.
She discards the items clipped to her belt on a side table, and shrugs off her suit jacket. Lays it neatly over the arm of the couch, eyes firmly latched onto the blonde at the stove.
"I'm glad you made it home," Maura says, throws a smile over her shoulder as she attends to something that smells like delicious marinara sauce.
Jane pauses, just watches. Croaks, "Me, too." The words strained through a lump in her throat.
There's nothing unusual about this scene, nothing out of place, and yet the difference, the feeling in her chest is… indescribable.
Closing her eyes for a moment, she breathes in the quiet space. It helps build her courage, and as that grows her disbelief fades. This space has always felt like home to her. Their home.
Everything feels new and old all at once, as she continues to watch Maura from afar.
But then she's pushing off the edge of the island counter and fingers dance silently along the length of the surface as she moves across the kitchen.
She doesn't touch as she stands right behind Maura. Almost, but not touching. Inhales long and deep. Breathes in shampoo and perfume and home-cooked comfort food. It's exhilarating. And her eyes fall closed again as her fingertips tingle with anticipation.
She lets her chin fall, wants to bury her face into those soft waves of blonde hair. She couldn't do it before, has wanted to for years, but always found an obstacle. Usually herself.
Now her stomach flops and rolls with nervousness, because she can, if she wants to and oh god does she want to. So, she draws on her courage before it has any chance to flee. She's too close to turn back, feels things too deep to ignore.
Palms finally land, softly caressing the doctor's hips, and she holds her breath. Surrenders to the secret longing that had fueled her refusal of Casey's proposal back when she was still burying herself in denial. Hiding in a proverbial closet as big as Maura's walk-in.
And then she prays.
She prays she isn't mistaken, isn't imagining things. Prays she hasn't fallen for someone's lies or been made the victim of a cruel and heartless prank. Now that she's made a move, her heart is racing. It will surely explode in her chest if Maura turns to her with anything resembling scorn or ridicule.
If this all somehow goes to hell, she's pretty sure she might actually die.
But Maura hums in pleasure, covers one of Jane's hands with one of her own and tilts her head to the side.
Jane breathes out in relief, presses her lips to Maura's neck and wraps both hands, one still with Maura's own riding piggyback, tightly around the blonde's waist.
"Hi," Maura purrs. Says it like they haven't seen each other in weeks.
It lights a fire within her and she can't stop kissing, doesn't want to. Presses her lips to Maura's skin over and over. Runs her hands across the doctor's abdomen, up her ribcage, then down to the tops of her thighs and back again. Repeats it until Maura's breathing is heavy, her eyes closed and both hands supporting them against the edge of the counter.
"Jane," Maura shudders as she cups supple breasts, rolls them and squeezes firm flesh, sweeps thumbs over stiffening nipples through layers of lace and silk.
She nibbles the flesh in her mouth and cants her hips forward, earns another series of moans.
Maura shivers as Jane tongue kisses her neck. "I made pasta," the doctor whispers again and Jane lets out a dark chuckle. As if she's going to pay any attention to actual food now that she has this woman in her mouth.
She withdraws, removes the pressure at Maura's back, and the woman turns just as she'd hoped. "Not hungry," she growls, plants her lips on Maura's as one hand pulls their bodies back together and the other deftly flicks off the stove.
She squats for a brief second, makes Maura gasp as her skirt is shucked roughly up her thighs. Generates a squeak of surprise, too, as she plants both hands on Maura's butt, picks her up and deposits her on the countertop.
They kiss again, rampant passionate kisses with tongues that stroke and dance. Creating sensuous noises that drive them ever onward. Everything that surrounds them falls away as arousal takes over.
"What are you doing?" Maura breathes when they break, makes no attempt to stop or slow Jane and her wandering lips as they creep down Maura's throat to the hollow where clavicles meet.
"I love you," she mumbles, though her desperation is clear, "I love you I love you." She pauses, straightens up to find Maura's eyebrows drawn together. "Let me love you," she rushes, "Please? I'm sorry for – for not -"
"It's okay," Maura says, kisses the words onto her forehead.
"No, it's not. I shouldn't have -" But there's so much to say, too much, and she can't make the points she needs to succinctly and in the right order. How do you apologize for the things you know you must have done wrong but that you can't remember?
With a sigh, her forehead falls to join Maura's and she runs her palms over the blonde's thighs as she speaks softly. She still doesn't know if this is real, but it feels real enough and she grabs ahold with both hands before the illusion slips away.
"I'm an idiot," she states and Maura tsks, gives her a headshake.
She tries again, words spilling out, quieter still. "Yes, an idiot… but I love you. I've always loved you. Shoulda told you sooner, I know that now. And I wouldn't ever push you away, not if I thought you wanted me too."
Maura cups her face, strokes her cheek, and holds her face away so she can get a good look. And all the while, the blonde frowns like Jane's not making any sense, and to this Maura she probably isn't.
"Please don't doubt it. Don't doubt my feelings for you. Ever," she pleads, her voice thick with emotion and suddenly hazel eyes are watery and glistening. Dammit.
She ducks her head before any tears spill over and speak into Maura's neck again. "I'm so sorry for this morning. It won't happen again, just – I can't lose you." Long arms wrap around Maura's waist and squeeze tight, just in case she wakes up from this dream to find Maura is gone.
But the blonde remains, rubs her hands over Jane's upper back and murmurs shush between kisses into raven hair.
"I only just got you," she continues, unable to stop now that the floodgates are open. "And I'm so in love with you and I'm sorry -"
Maura kisses her then, hot, demanding, and heat rages between her thighs as shapely legs wrap around her waist and arms lock around her neck.
Filling her hands with Maura's luscious ass once more, she pulls the woman towards her, draws out a sultry moan as their bodies press together between Maura's legs, and in a heartbeat she's thinking about how many steps it would be to the bedroom.
But, Maura grabs her hand and pushes it between them. Leads trembling fingers straight up her skirt and into her underwear. Jane's eyes are wide at the lack of preamble but fuck, it feels good.
Maura is so warm, and god so very wet and guides her hand quickly, clearly in no mood for slow. Fingers dip slightly into her drenched opening then rub the full length up to her clit, once maybe twice, but barely much at all and definitely not enough for Jane's liking. And then with Maura's grip firmly latched around her wrist it takes no effort at all to sink two fingers straight into her.
They gasp together.
She pushes deep. And curls.
"Uuuunnghhh."
Strokes walls of ridged flesh on her way out. Watches Maura's mouth fall open and her eyes close and she wants to make that happen over and over again.
This isn't what she expected their first time to be like, didn't think she'd ever be here anyway. It is mind-blowing nevertheless.
She pumps her fingers out and in again and the noise Maura makes is scandalous. Like pure sex dipped in warm honey.
"Fuck," she mutters, and does it again. Draws out another noise, and another, again and again, because it's intoxicating and she's already addicted.
"Mmm." Maura rocks her hips, meets her thrusts and growls, "Harder."
She obliges immediately. Ignores the surrealism of wantonly finger fucking her best friend on her kitchen counter, because this is her life now, this is real and she's the luckiest woman alive.
Her clit throbs like it's never throbbed before as Maura comes hard, grunts through the muscle spasms that signal her climax, latching onto Jane's fingers. And that's okay because she doesn't ever want to pull them out anyway.
When her hand finally retreats, it's only to let curious fingertips explore, to meander gently through velvet soft folds, relish in moist heat. She breathes in wonder at the feel of Maura's clit, swollen and stiff, begging for more attention. She strokes it, circles it, pinches between thumb and forefinger and rubs it. Every move sends another jolt of pleasure through Maura's body and she twitches each time, leans heavier on Jane, and tries to catch her breath.
Jane kisses her again. Slower, less demanding, but still firm, adoring.
"I love you, too," Maura pants. "Idiot." Then squeals and giggles when Jane drags her straight off the counter, dipping her hips to make sure she catches the doctor's weight high above them, and carries her straight to the bedroom.
It occurs to her in the middle of the night as she stares at the ceiling. She never did count the steps between the kitchen and the bedroom.
It's just one of a million things she's thinking about because her brain won't switch off. She has so much residual energy buzzing through her limbs she could conceivably run a marathon before it is time to start work. It feels like the only sleep she's going to get tonight would be at that finish line.
She sighs, long and hard, allows guilt to cut it off at the end as Maura rolls away as if disturbed. The movement frees up a trapped arm, and Jane flexes her fingers to exorcise the developing pins and needles as her eyes trace the contours of Maura's sheet-covered body in the dark.
Dammit, she should be exhausted. Physically worn and in need of restful recuperation given their earlier exertion. Maura had paid her back for every single orgasm… and then some.
It shouldn't take flattened fingers pressed over her pubic bone to confirm it is already tender, but her hand moves anyway. She tests out the soreness and cups between her legs, grateful that she retains some physical evidence of Maura and their lovemaking.
Perfectly sated, she feels no temptation to move her fingers. Doesn't wish to stimulate her clit or slide her fingers inside even in the remote hopes that another climax might push her over the edge into sleep.
That isn't what she wants.
She's never been able to lie still for very long during nights where sleep eludes her. The memories of nightmares so torturous they chased her from beneath the covers night after night linger around the edges of her mind. They haven't visited her recently, but the ingrained coping mechanism remains.
With one last look over at Maura, she slips out of bed, snatches her underwear and ill-fitting gray suit and silently leaves the room.