A/N: Firstly, there's mature content in this, though nothing graphic.
Secondly, I'm sorry for the delay in updating this. I got very caught up with Secret Santa stuff last week and just didn't have time to get this up sooner. I'm hoping that I'll be able to be more on top of updating this, Unbound and Addiction now.
Thirdly: thanks to: Ebony10, 0meltingsnow0, WildDaisies10, yaba, MentalistLover, bluedragon1836, Divinia Serit, Group Hugs For Everyone, Frogster, Jadestar1981 and Kink Fluff Angst for reviewing part seven. So glad you're still enjoying it!
And twin -- I can get back to writing your Christmas present again! YAY. So exciting.
x tromana
Part Eight - The Eye of the Storm
He peels off her jacket, which has the scent of smoke hanging on its every fiber, painfully slowly. It's a relief to have it off her shoulders; smelling of a bonfire reminds her of just how close she came to losing her life today. Casually, Jane tosses it onto the desk while Lisbon perches carefully on the double bed. She pretends not to notice when he tugs off his shoes and socks and they collide roughly with the door.
The hotel bed is hard and unforgiving and part of her aches for the softer, more comfortable one sitting empty at her home.
But she knows this works better, for the both of them.
A hotel room is devoid of personality, hers more specifically. Although her modest apartment is the home that he has felt most comfortable in during recent months, it's never been somewhere he has really belonged. She tries her best to make him feel like he can feel at ease there, but it's never going to work. Jane still feels like an invasive species, foreign material, unwelcome.
She may have let him into her heart, but that's not something that he can reciprocate in its entirety.
Maybe, if Red John had been dealt with, whatever the conclusion to that may be, things would be different…
Jane approaches her, with a predatory look in his eyes. She flinches as she comes under his gaze, feeling rather like a piece of meat being drooled over by a particularly hungry dog. His eyes are heavy with lust and desire and Lisbon hadn't quite expected that, even though he had brought her to a hotel rather than home. But just because he can't love her like she loves him, doesn't mean he doesn't need her.
Despite his fierce gaze, his hands are a contradiction, soft and caring, as he cups her face and litters her with delicate kisses, paying particular attention to her throat and nose. Lisbon doesn't dare touch him, she doesn't want to lead him on, to force him to do something he doesn't want to do.
Her lack of involvement doesn't seem to put him off, at first.
She winces as he roughly pulls the elastic band out, along with several of her hairs that had gotten caught, loosening her ponytail and allowing her hair to cascade around her face and down her back.
Shivers under his touch as he takes off layer by layer of clothing, relishing in it. Taking his time like she's some kind of particularly precious present, which he isn't quite ready to unveil yet. Jane continues to press his lips tenderly against each and every piece of skin he exposes, focusing his attention fully on her, if only to stop his mind from whirring at a thousand miles an hour.
When she's finally in a state of undress, laying on the bed with her chest heaving at his tantalizing teasing, he's still fully clothed, observing her as if she was some kind of prize.
"Please."
Her voice is barely a whimper. She had promised herself that she wouldn't beg him, let him make all the decisions without any input of her own. But she feels isolated, alone. Like she's been placed on a pedestal, merely to be observed and admired. Like she isn't actually part of the world, his world any more. It makes her feel like she's made of glass. But she's fairly certain that she's not as fragile as he appears to be treating her as.
The sound of her voice is enough to remind him what he's actually doing, to bring him back into the land of the living so to speak.
In what feels like forever, yet at the same time, no time at all, he has stripped and joined her on the unforgiving mattress. Jane indulges himself with yet more lazy touches, frowning somewhat at her unresponsiveness, her self-restraint. He knows why she's doing it, but he can't help but wish that she would reciprocate his touch, just to make sure that he feels less like he's using her.
Because he's not.
And if she wants him to stop, he'd stop in an instant.
It's his turn to beg, now and tentatively, her hand reaches out, like a lighthouse on the cliffs, guiding him to safety. He relaxes in an instant and it isn't long until they both know where they stand, as it were.
As he thrusts into her and her muscles are working in overdrive, she can't help but wonder if this frenzy they've worked themselves into is merely the eye of the storm. Different kinds of emotions are coursing through her veins right now, more pleasurable than the past twenty-four hours, but even they cannot eclipse recent events.
Sex, after all, rarely solves anything. If anything, it's more likely to make things more complicated.
It certainly makes letting go all the more difficult.
Eventually, he lays spent, beside her and curls up beside her, arms wrapped possessively around her waist. She glances at his face, taking in his features. He doesn't quite have that famous post-coital glow, but he certainly more relaxed than he has done for a while. She's not sure whether or not to classify that as a job well done or to worry about what the future holds.
Maybe both.
As the moonlight casts shadows through the gap in curtain, Lisbon lays quietly, with Jane's head nestled in the crook of her neck. His hot breath tickles her exposed skin and it takes all her self-control not to shudder in response. Despite the fact that he was settled and seemingly at peace, she couldn't rest herself.
She's just realized that she never received an answer to her question.
TBC…
