Warning: Explicit sexual content
Patrick was entirely speechless and remained so for the rest of their drive home after his one attempt at speaking had turned into a hapless stutter.
His inability to form coherent words didn't stretch to committing actions however. As soon as they'd entered their home, he picked Teresa up and carried her upstairs in a rush. He put her down on their bed and before she had a chance to really comprehend what was going on, her shoes, socks, and pants were already gone and he was well on his way to removing her jacket and top as well.
"Woo, woo, Jane! What's the rush?" she teased him.
He didn't answer and continued with his endeavor of getting her naked as fast as possible. She didn't resist, but watched it all with increasing amusement. She loved it when pent up emotions got the better of him. He tended to be extra passionate on those occasions and made love to her without any restraint. As it happened, her desire for him had been simmering the whole evening through. She'd been hot for him for hours and their talk in the car had done the rest. This would be hard, intense and fast, and she didn't mind that at all.
Though he was in a hurry and didn't exactly put on a show, watching him stripping out of his own clothes turned her on even more. She admired his light-fingeredness when he opened his many buttons with precise, quick movements and couldn't quell an appreciative groan, when his very appealing chest was revealed. The removal of his pants and shorts elicited another groan, especially when he bent down to step out of them and remove his socks.
She sat up on the bed, legs dangling over the edge, when he stood before her in his naked glory, already fully erect. His eyes looked at her with hunger and barely concealed desire and as usual she felt like the most covetable woman in the world when he looked at her like that. It made her frantic with need. "God, Patrick, I want you," she moaned urgently.
He kneeled between her legs and caressed her thighs, coaxing her into opening them further. He bent his head and kissed her clit lightly making her cry out. His tongue started to open her up and penetrate her, preparing her for a bigger intruder – not that it would have been necessary, she was more than ready for him. But he'd probably sensed her desperate state and decided to bring her off once to take off the edge before the real act. She was panting constantly, fervently mumbling his name in between. He was devouring her hungrily and as usual, he succeeded in taking her higher and higher before granting her release. When he finally allowed her to come, she was shouting his name uncontrollably.
He gave her a moment to come down from her high - using the time to don a condom - before his lips found hers in a kiss reminiscent of what he'd just done to another part of her anatomy. Then he pushed her torso back down onto the bed, grabbed her legs, put them around his waist and pulled her even closer to the edge of the bed. In his kneeling position his groin came right up to her core and with a look of intense concentration he entered her slowly and carefully, knowing from previous experience that she would still be hyper sensitive right now.
When he was finally fully engulfed by her, a sigh of deep satisfaction escaped him. Teresa realized that it took all of his outstanding self-command not to nail her at this moment. With her heels pushing against his butt she urged him in deeper and gave her consent for him to move, and move he did: his thrusts were almost brutal and she egged him on to take her harder. His grip on her hips, which forced her down on his shaft even more with his every stroke, was leaving bruises, she was sure, but she didn't care.
They were both very vocal, though not really coherent. She could decipher a few 'love yous' and 'gods', but other than that he was mostly crying out his arousal with abandon. So much unrestrained openness from him during sex was rather rare and she appreciated it all the more now that it happened and it turned her excitement up another notch.
He changed his angle a bit, knowing fully well that this would make the contact even more pleasurable for her, the sly fox. But even in her state she took it for the tactical move it was: he was very close himself and wanted them to come together, which - only two minutes later - they did, both with liberating shouts.
Her legs fell bonelessly down from around his waist and his penis left her when he hunkered down and his head sank onto her stomach. She gathered enough energy to move one of her hands into his hair, playing gently with the short curls at his neck. He sighed languorously, his arms coming up to caress her torso tenderly.
"I love you so much, Patrick," she declared when her breathing was back under her control. "I never knew that sex could be that fulfilling and intense until our relationship started. God, I could do this all day long!" And with a snicker she added, "Well, we almost did today, come to think of it. I must compliment you on your stamina. Not bad for an old man."
Her kissed her stomach. "I conserved myself for you, remember? For years. That should yield some benefits, don't you think?" he joked. He looked up at her with a fond smile, "And how could I resist a minx like you? You're so incredibly beautiful, Teresa. I hope you know that."
She blushed at the compliment and his bedazzled look. "Don't be embarrassed," he said softly. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world to me. Get used to it because I won't stop telling you, even if it makes you uncomfortable."
"You're being really sweet again, Patrick," she mocked him trying to overcome her discomfort with some teasing.
"Oh come on, Lisbon. Cut me some slack. A man's surely allowed to be a bit sappy right after making love to the woman of his heart, especially if she happens to be the most adorable, beautiful, smart, did I mention beautiful, woman in the world, both on the inside and out," he teased her back.
She ruffled his newly cut hair affectionately and smiled warmly. "Alright, imp. You win. But just because you happen to be the cutest, most handsome, charming, did I mention cutest, man in the world."
He chuckled and got up from his crouch and pulled her into a sitting position. Then he bent down and kissed her deeply. "I don't know about you, but unfortunately I still have a shirt to iron for tomorrow," he said with a sigh, gathering his shorts and putting them on, after he'd gotten rid of the used rubber. Following that he started to pick up the rest of their scattered clothes and either folded them neatly or put them on hangers.
She watched, enjoying him doing those mundane tasks with the same intensity with which he did most things. Amused with herself, she realized that even this seemed to arouse her these days. And considering the knowing look he suddenly cast her, he'd noticed it as well. He grinned and said, "I think not, Teresa. Because if I let you lure me in now, I'll never iron that shirt. And then I would probably exude some kind of homeless vibe tomorrow at the funeral. Can't have that, can we?"
Her eyes twinkled with mirth remembering the scene his words evoked. She got up from the bed and embraced him from behind while he put their still usable clothes back into the closet. He couldn't prevent her hands from stroking his chest because his were occupied with the garments he was handling, and she exploited that fact ruthlessly, knowing very well that this was one of his most sensitive areas. "You little minx," he mock-scolded her. "But you won't get away with it, Emy. I have better control than that."
This of course only provoked her to challenge him even more. One of her hands left his chest and sneaked into his shorts. To her satisfaction she found him already half-hard again and her touch caused a noticeable twitch. "Control?" she snickered. "You call that control, Jane? Then this must be some kind of a pocket-rocket."
He tucked away the last of their clothes stoically, but as soon as he was free of his task again, he grabbed her arms with one of his hands and held them above her head. With his other arm he pulled her flat to his chest, and then took hold of her head and turned it up so he could kiss her.
It was a deep, passionate kiss, meant to seduce her and convince her she'd won, and it did so effectively. She moaned into his mouth, which was his cue to release her and step out of her reach. "If you can hold that thought until I'm done with my ironing, I'll be all too happy to continue this, Lisbon." He smirked, grabbed the shirt he intended to wear the next day, and left the bedroom to go to the laundry where she kept the equipment he needed.
She cursed him under her breath and had to admit once more that he was simply better at playing this particular game. But she was improving. He stuck his head out of the laundry and asked loudly, "Is there anything you need ironed for tomorrow, love?"
"As a matter of fact, now that you mention it, my blouse could do with a bit of unwrinkling. I'll be with you in a minute."
Teresa put on her sleepwear, found said blouse and joined her boyfriend. She'd actually never seen him ironing before and considering how often he forwent wearing ironed shirts, she was a bit skeptical about his abilities in that regard. But she should have known that Patrick Jane didn't do things by half. As in most cases with him he performed this task as if he'd never done anything else.
Taking in her expression he said, "Don't look so astonished. Just because I hate ironing doesn't mean I don't know how to do it. I was responsible for all our stage clothes as long as I can remember. Believe me – I've quite a bit of experience. So you can trust me with your blouse." He motioned with his hand for her to give it to him and she complied without hesitation.
"Well, I hate ironing too. So this will be one chore we'll have to share evenly," she replied a bit disappointed. They'd talked about their preferences when it came to household tasks and for the most part, they were extremely compatible. Patrick detested vacuuming, which Teresa in turn didn't mind much. She on the other hand didn't like cleaning the bathroom, which he had no problems with – and so on, and so forth.
"We can always decide to walk around all wrinkly," he suggested with a grin.
"At least in your case, no one would notice any difference," she teased him.
He nodded merrily, continuing his task with sure precision. "That's true I guess. Another option would be to invest in the dry-cleaner's for that. I do on occasion when I have to take my suits there anyway. I'm sure you've recognized those memorable times when I actually wore ironed shirts?" He looked up from the ironing board and took in her nod. "Other than that, I didn't have much of a chance to do it myself. Most motels don't offer the necessary equipment and the CBI attic certainly doesn't," he explained sheepishly.
"Hence the homeless vibe," she teased him.
"Not anymore, though," he answered seriously.
"No, not anymore, love," she agreed with a warm voice. "Now you're home."
"Yes I am." He smiled happily.
TBC
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