Author's note: My apologies for the length of time it is taking me to finish this story. When I started it back in the summer I never dreamed it would end up this complex or lengthy. While I said before that this would be the final chapter, having written it, I do feel an epilogue coming on. All my writerly love to those who have hung on this long with me, and to those who have encouraged me to keep going. Once again, a big round of applause for LittleMender (whether she likes it or not) because without her help this fic would either not be as good, as sharp, as tight, or it would have taken me ages more to manage it all on my own.
AN-2: This chapter as been edited so that it is less explicit and more in line with FFN standards. The original, unexpurgated, steamier version is available at Archive of Our Own archiveofourown_org /works /250398 /chapters /454260 (replace _ with . and delete extraneous spaces).
Previously: She chortled and said, "Patrick Jane, you are the only man I know who can take his life from Greek Tragedy to screwball comedy in less than twenty-four hours."
"It's not funny."
"Oh, I don't know. I think most women are highly amused at how rattled men can get simply from buying condoms. Come into the kitchen, I'll make you some pancakes."
Jane managed the setting like he had been preparing for a wedding night - found a small bed and breakfast up in the mountains with suites designed for a romantic getaway. The family that ran it also had a vineyard and winery. He had enlisted the help of the real estate agent to find it, and was glad that Megan had been able to help - spur of the moment reservations at such places were not easily come by. This one was just far enough inland, and far enough away from L.A. to not be booked solid in the middle of the week. They would have two nights there then head back to Sacramento. He was done with the house, and was bringing Lisbon away from it.
He located a flower shop that specialized in arrangements based on the language of flowers, offering a wider variety of less common blooms. A conversation with a florist there yielded a design featuring honeysuckle, ivy, lily of the valley, and blue violets, bearing a legend card revealing bonds of love, friendship, return of happiness, and faithfulness as their message. It was to Jane's advantage that the card could be customized, as some of the alternate meanings pushed too far into talk of marriage. However pleased he was in the underlying significance, he knew Lisbon would be discomfited by an overt mention. Next to the more elaborate arrangement was a pot of red tulips with a card telling the legend of a Turkish prince whose tragic tale lead to them having the meaning of perfect love. He then enlisted the courier company Megan's office used to pick up the flowers in Santa Monica and deliver them to the B&B in Moorpark.
Requesting a bottle of wine and a couple of glasses to await them in their room was no difficulty. They did not run any sparkling wines, so he had to make do. One of their proudest offerings was a dry red zinfandel that they were happy to serve with a tray of cheese and dark chocolates.
The place was an hour's drive from Malibu - close enough it would not be difficult to finish up loose ends with the house, yet far enough away as to feel like a fresh start.
IIIIIIIIIII
Upon arrival, Jane ushered her into their room. When she exclaimed over the beauty of the flowers, he said, "Lisbon, you should be surrounded by bunches of the most beautiful blossoms. Anything less would look like dried grasses next to you."
She grinned and replied, "Flattery will get you nowhere, but flowers and booze might move things along nicely."
He grinned back, happy for this sign that she was beginning to shed the burden of emotional exhaustion she had carried for both of them. He kissed her once on the mouth, nuzzled her cheek, and guided her to sit at the small table.
While nibbling on the cheese and chocolate and sipping on the wine, they talked of inconsequential things that neither would remember later. When they were done Jane said, "I don't want this to go the way it did the night before last. You're in charge now. I just want to ask two things."
"Go ahead."
"Will you undress for me, please?"
"And what else?"
"When," it was hard for him to say, so he hesitated a bit, "when you are ready for me - "
She cocked one eyebrow at his hesitance, gave a little smirk and prompted, "When I'm ready for you to screw me?"
He gave a low growl of discomfiture at her crudity. "Let me see your eyes when I'm inside you," his voice broke over the last word, "please."
Desire flowing through her at his words, Lisbon began by kicking her shoes off. Then she unbuttoned the top three buttons on her shirt, and shrugged off her blazer. She crooked her finger at him, and he stepped up to her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she brought his face to hers, touching lips, touching mouths, touching tongues. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and began unbuttoning his vest. He put all the heat he felt into their kiss, reluctant now to put his hands on her without invitation. She finished getting his vest off him then with hands on his shoulders pushed him back two steps. Her hands went to her own shirt, resuming the task of getting it off. When it slipped to the floor, she undid her fly and pushed her jeans half way down her hips.
Beckoning him closer, she kissed him again then brushed her lips over his jaw, wet kisses pressed on the corner by his ear. While sucking his earlobe into her mouth, she got his shirt off him. Nuzzling her way from his ear to the base of his throat, she licked his collarbone then blew on it. The sensation of cool air on his jaw, ear, and neck reminded him of what he had done to her that first morning at his house. She was marking him in turn, gently, in her own way. The realization brought a low, rumbling moan out of him; where he had been half-hard in anticipation, arousal surged to full hardness.
Again she propelled him back. Pushing her jeans all the way to the floor, she stepped out of them and stepped toward him. He leaned down so their mouths met. She nudged him back till he sat on the bed. To increase the tease, she turned around, reached behind her and unsnapped her bra. Leaning forward until the straps fell off her shoulders, she dropped it to the floor. Then she eased her panties over one hip at a time, dropping them as well. Now that she was completely bare, she looked over her shoulder to say, "Pants off, Patrick," and turned to face him.
Seeing her so comfortable in her saucy strip act gave him made aware of her ease and trust in him. He stood up, in-drawn breath, eyes darker than ever, and moved toward her. Reaching a hand to her face, he stroked her cheek with his palm and kissed her. Her hands went to his waist, unbuckling the belt and opening his fly.
"Do you really need to be told twice to take off your pants?"
"No, I'll get right to it," and he pushed them down his legs, and eased the rest of his clothing off. She reached behind his head to pull him in for another kiss, the other reaching for his erection. He gently caught her wrist and said, "Please - not yet. If you let me touch you first, I'll have a sporting chance of not embarrassing myself."
"I thought I was in charge?"
"Please?"
She acquiesced by wrapping that arm around his shoulders and nuzzling his neck. He ran his hands up and down the bare skin of her sides, caressing her hips.
"Into bed," she ordered, "now." And he obeyed, going to the other side so she would have room. She laid down, rolling on her side, facing him. "Touch me."
"You are beautiful. I should have said before, but you are so stunning I couldn't say it," he said, rolling so they were face to face. He leaned over and kissed her shoulder. "So delicately sculpted." He propped himself up on one elbow and caressed her arm from the shoulder he had kissed down to her hand which he then drew to his mouth. He kissed the palm and whispered into it, "So beautiful."
"Skin so smooth," he murmured - softly enough she scarcely heard him as he traced his fingertips over the center of her chest. His lips caressed the path his fingers had just gone. Placing a kiss below her navel he continued, "So lovely." He kissed his way back up her body, brushing his sensitive mouth over her skin, breathing her in. His fingers stroked up her side, gliding over ribs, teasing touches.
The heat of the moment incinerated his resolution to protect her from fears of the past. He got lost in her, forgetting to follow her lead. He kissed the top of her breast, and nipped her shoulder. Kissing her mouth again and again, he leaned over her, pushing her so she lay flat on her back, pinning her arm above her head.
Their mouths moved fiercely together. He pushed her legs apart with his knee. When she took a deep breath, his blood turned to ice water. He pulled back, abashed, remembering what had happened when he had asserted control before.
"It's ok," she whispered breathlessly, trying to reassure him. "You're not pushing too hard."
"I don't ever want you to feel like that again when you're with me. I made a mess of it, from first to last. If I were man enough, I'd let you go so you could love someone who won't send you into a panic attack. But I need you too much - I'm too selfish."
"Stop. You have to stop blaming yourself for the horrible things that happen to people you love. You did not cause that."
"No? I didn't cause you to beg me not to punish you? I didn't go right ahead and shove you over that couch? I didn't - " The more he talked the more his heat and blood retreated.
"Hold on. How did you get from making love with me to wallowing in self-loathing in less than a minute? Never mind. Don't answer that. I'm in charge here. Look at me, right now. Tell me what you see." She ran her hand over her chest.
"I see two perfect breasts, slightly engorged and aroused. Your skin is flushed warm."
She blushed a bit in pleasure at his admiration. Laying hold of his hand, she guided it to her chest. Together their fingers circled it. Bringing their hands down her abdomen, she angled her leg, leaving her knees akimbo. Running their fingers over her center, she opened herself to his inspection. "And what do you feel here?"
Pressing the heel of his palm against her as she pushed herself up into his hand, he stroked her. Both of them groaned as he felt the slick proof of how eager she was. His own desire returned in full force.
With a smirk, she asked, "And what does that tell you?"
"You're aroused - and you want this, want me."
He pulled his hand away from her as hers left off guiding his. She caressed up his arm from his hand to his shoulder. She soothed her palm over his cheek then caressed her own cheek, "And what do you see here? Do you see how I trust you? Do you see that I love you?"
He choked out, "Yes."
"Then you can believe me when I tell you it is time to set aside the ugly past - be with me here and now. It is time for us to make love. It is time for you to touch me," she commanded. "If I see any signs of you thinking of anything other than how to please me, you will regret it."
"Yes, Mistress."
"What are you, the tin dog? Don't call me that."
"Yes, my Queen?"
She snorted a laugh, "That's better. Now stop stalling and put your hands and lips on me."
He started by drawing figure-eights over her skin between her breasts and her hips, teasing shivers of pleasure out of her as his fingers skated nearer and nearer to overt erogenous zones. When he did finally touch his mouth to her lips at the same time he brushed his fingers over her, the area was so sensitized that she could not stop herself from moaning his name and pleading with him not to stop. He obliged by continuing, alternating from one side to the other until she quivered with need.
"Patrick, now. I need to feel your mouth there, please."
While he suckled her, his fingers made their way back to her center. After a moment, her hand joined his so her fingers could guide him in the touches that would send cascades of pleasure through her whole body, until she shivered and smoldered.
When she could wait no longer, she pushed him back. Straddling his hips, she grabbed for a foil packet. He moaned helplessly while she rolled the condom onto him. She sank down on him, her eyes drifting shut as she took a deep breath. She circled her hips, giving herself time to adjust to the intrusion.
Reaching to caress her cheek, he said, "Let me see your eyes, my love. Please, Teresa."
She opened her eyes, locking on his. Innumerable waves of passion passed between them, tempered by tenderness. Eyes fluttering shut then open again, she leaned forward, rocking her hips. Together their breath came faster and heavier. Once again, she took his hand to teach him what she needed. Bringing it up to her breast, breathing out one word, "Teeth."
As he obeyed the thought if not the word with a tweak of his fingers, a bolt of sensation shot from her nipple to her womb, cascading her into orgasm. The strength of her climax brought him closer and closer to the edge himself. When she stilled, he began thrusting up against her, setting his own pace. She joined in his rhythm after a few moments, coming back to her senses, riding him up and down until he grasped her hips to hold her still while he pushed harder against her, his own pleasure tumbling his mind and body. Though he had begged her to meet his eyes, to see what was in her heart and what flowed through her body, in the end he could not keep his own open. It was too much. There were too many shades and colors of emotion bestride him, cantering at an uneven pace - love, pleasure, guilt, grief, tenderness, fear.
She rolled off him. Putting her mouth against his, her arms around him, she saw the shuddering breaths that did not subside as they would if they only came from exertion. Tears glistening against his eyelashes told her how far beyond overwhelmed he was. She kissed his eyelids and the bridge of his nose.
When he gained enough control to slow his breath and speak, he said, "I can't, I'm sorry, I can't explain - "
"Shh, it's all right. You don't have to explain yourself to me now. You only have to be here with me."
"I'm not going anywhere unless you send me away."
After quickly cleaning himself up, he kissed her again, an arm snaking around her waist to bring her closer, inviting her to cuddle, stroking her arm as she did so. Their exertions added to days of weariness drew them down into sleep - restful, healing sleep.
Sometime around 3 a.m. Lisbon woke to find the man spooned against her back with one hand roaming a wide circuit over the bare skin of her belly.
"Awake now, love?" he whispered.
"Mmhmm."
"May I touch you more?"
"Mmhmm."
His fingers skimmed over her breasts, palm rubbing over first one then the other, gently kneading each in turn. He nuzzled her neck, below her ear, nipping with the slightest pressure.
She turned her head to their lips could meet, and reached behind her to run her hand over him. He got harder. Instinctively rocking his hips into her touch, he took her hand to nuzzle and kiss her palm while he pressed his hips against her so she could feel him nudging between her legs. He let go of her hand to stroke up her arm, gently pulling her shoulder back and down a bit so she lay with her upper body turned a little toward him, making it easier for them to kiss. He returned his attention to where it had been, spreading his fingers wide over her breast then drawing them together into a light pinch. She hummed in satisfaction, so he continued the massage for some time, alternating from one side to the other. She hitched her top leg up, resting it over his thigh, opening herself so she could stroke herself and him at the same time.
After a few moments of this she guided him to her entrance, and ordered, "Quit fooling around, Patrick. Fuck me."
"Yes, Boss," he said, grinning.
Kissing her again, he gently pushed in, moving at a languid pace. She turned her shoulders back so she was completely on her side again. The arm he had been propped up on, he inched under and around her, holding her close so her back was pressed to his chest. He surrounded her with warmth and strength. Taking his other hand in hers, she guided it to her center. Their intertwined fingers rubbed circles there.
He buried his face in the crook of her neck, murmuring against her skin, "I need you, I love you," over and over until she wanted to weep from thinking about all the time he had been alone.
All she could think to say in response was, "I'm here." She repeated it to him, their call and response becoming a litany of union, sanctifying this space. Time was suspended - minutes stretched into eons, hours condensed into moments.
Her awareness contracted down to the feel of his body around hers, inside hers. Slow-building waves of pleasure surged through Lisbon's body, an extended orgasm shivering over her awareness until she begged him for mercy - she needed a break. His movements slowed, allowing her to come down. Her breathing slowed as she returned to her senses and she noticed the tension in all his muscles.
Turning her head to face him, she whispered, "Holding back?"
He nodded wordlessly. What his body wanted - her face down beneath him - he was unwilling to ask. More than that, he was unwilling to explain it to her. This was his penance for all that he had demanded of her, and how it had broken her.
"Tell me," she urged.
"Can't."
"What do you need?" She kissed him reached behind her to stroke her fingers through his hair.
"Shower. Come with me. I want to finish in the shower. Please." He took her hand, kissing the back of it. Then he started to get up. She felt a boneless, pleasurable inertia but was confused and concerned why he had not taken his release already. She made the effort to get up and follow him.
Running the water as hot as they could stand it, they stood together under the spray. She started to handle him, stroking up and down. With his hand over hers, he implored her to grip tighter and go faster. His release came in a few short minutes. Taking turns washing each other, the rest of their time under the water turned into a rite of tenderness rather than of sensuality. After getting out and toweling off, he cupped one hand around her neck to draw her closer. He kissed one eyelid then the other, then rested his forehead against hers.
"Think you can sleep?" She asked.
He nodded and she led him back to bed. Once again he ended up spooning against her back, his arm holding her closely, their legs entangled. It was this that made her wonder if there was some necessity in him, bone-deep, for this position. But sleep called her more strongly than curiosity and she never asked the question.
IIIIIIIIII
Jane had been up at the crack of dawn, after getting another hour of sleep. Awareness of having her in his arms made it all the sweeter. Quietly getting up, he wrapped the blankets around her so she would not be disturbed by the chill in his absence.
Dressing quickly, he showed up for breakfast at the first allowable moment, and began dropping hints on Lisbon's behalf immediately. Using his charm, his vociferous appreciation for the man's scrambled eggs, and a certain amount of playing for sympathy, Jane convinced the patriarch who put the breakfast in the Bed & Breakfast to give Lisbon a dispensation from the posted hours for serving hot food. He had hated the thought of waking her, but strongly believed that a muffin and coffee were grossly insufficient for restoring mental and physical strength and resilience.
She eventually got up and dressed after ten in the morning. Once properly caffeinated and nourished, she appeared more relaxed and healthy than he had seen her in months - years, even.