A/N: I didn't know how valuable reviews were until I wrote a story of my own and now I have to go track down every story I've ever read in my life and write some. I mean. I could do that. Or I could finish this chapter instead.
Thank you to everybody who is reading. I had no idea, I thought maybe a dozen people might read my story if I was lucky but according to the stats hundreds of people from ALL OVER THE WORLD have read my extraordinarily silly banter. That is humbling for a first-time writer. It's been a fun couple of days. :) Aaaaand I'm super embarrassed.
So, THIS chapter? Probably M rated. We can find out together once I start typing. I don't have a plan. Something about knowing when it feels right and letting that be our guide...

"Lisbon."
"Yeah?"
"Let's go for a walk."
"Now?", she squeaked, a hand gesturing lamely at their current, uh, closeness.
"It's a beautiful day. Birds are probably singing the songs of their people and we are missing it."
"You do realise it will probably still be beautiful in a couple of hours?"
"Yeah, well maybe, but, uh, well, I hadn't really thought this through."
Lisbon's hands wavered in their exploration of his back, his stomach. She had been itching to unbutton his far from masculine floral shirt, run her hands along his bare skin, but his seeming rejection furrowed her brow.

"Okay, well that certainly came out wrong," Jane sat back on his heels, pelvises still dangerously close. His erection was fairly uncomfortable, should've worn looser slacks, rookie mistake. "I meant, and take note I was trying to be casually suave about it and you blew it for me, but I meant that I don't have condoms. So, there's that."
Jane had the grace to look sheepish. Lisbon had the grace not to roll her eyes, before reaching up with both hands and undoing three buttons on his shirt.
"I'm on the pill." She ran her fingers under his shirt, across his chest. The muscles weren't defined; he was too much a fan of napping and nachos, and she tugged on a wispy bit of chest hair.
"I know," sliding a thumb along her chin.
Of course he did, how annoying. "So?"
"You haven't had time or opportunity to take it this morning yet."
"Your powers of observation fail you then, because I take it in the evenings. Which I did. Last night."
"Huh", he mused. "Every day at 7pm."
She huffed, but continued with the shirt removal, undoing the rest of his buttons. "How could you possibly know that?!"
"Daily reminder in your phone. I had surmised it was to remind you to feed orphans and bathe puppies. Which is silly, in retrospect, because as if you'd need a reminder to do what comes naturally."
Her hands across his torso were having the intended effect, goosebumps appeared across his belly and she reached up to stroke over his nipples. He extended a hand underneath him, touched her knee before trailing his fingers up along her inner thigh beneath the hem of her nightgown. Lisbon parted her knees just slightly to increase his access before pinching one of his nipples hard. Jane yelped, not at all manly.
"Ouch. What?"
"It's not okay that you went through my phone."
"Okay, fine, but use your words, woman. Assaulting me isn't going to undo what's already been done."
"Maybe not, but you squeal like a girl and it's funny."

Jane ran his fingers higher, silky touches up her inner thigh. He studied her face as his fingertips grazed her underwear. Cotton, he couldn't see what colour, but they were damp and she mewled wantonly when he insistently pushed his index finger against them, against her core.
"A-ha!" he announced triumphantly, rotating his finger in very small circles.
Her head was thrown back, all messy hair and heavy breathing and soft whimpering, "Oh God. What?"
"I can make you squeal like a girl too."

He flopped onto the mattress beside her, tracing the contours of her folds with one hand and pushing her sleepwear up with the other. Without looking, he mentally tried to guess her underwear colour. Definitely no-nonsense black, had to be. So he was pleasantly surprised to be wrong, to discover they were a soft pastel pink adorned with cartoon ladybugs.
"I love you." He did.
"Why, what have you done wrong now?" His intimate ministrations made it difficult for her to concentrate but she opened her eyes to find him happy-staring at her.
"When have I ever done anything wrong? Don't answer that."
He deftly, quickly, removed her underwear and held them up for her to see. "I am keeping these."
"You are not."
"I'm not giving them back."
"I don't think they're your size..."
"Not to wear, Teresa. I'm feeling inspired. I'm thinking of getting into scrapbooking. Will dedicate an entire page to them. A series of pages. Maybe the whole book, I'm not sure yet. Remind me to buy glitter."

Infuriating was what he was. Silly and charming and ridiculously attractive. And he was hers. Lisbon had a retort in mind, something about cutting up his shoes to make an abstract art sculpture for her desk, but Jane chose that moment to invade her core with a finger and her mouth with his tongue. Her hips undulated at the sudden intrusion and he inserted a second finger, felt for her clitoris with his thumb. He found it swollen, aching and as he rubbed slowly, gauging her reaction, she hissed and bit his tongue. Eyes closed, she reached to unfasten his trousers, slipped a hand inside, traced him gently. Tongue back in his own mouth for the moment, he gazed down at her.
"Mmm. No. Not yet. I'm busy. I won't be able to concentrate." He removed her hand from his pants and placed it on her breast, leaning down to suck the nipple of her other breast through her silken nightgown. It was bunched at her waist, needed to come off really, but he was distracted, focusing on his fingers inside of her and the changes in her pulse and breathing and facial expressions when he moved them, changed the depth or the angle. He continued to stroke her clitoris, and Lisbon found the sensation overwhelming.

"Jane..."
"I'm busy."
"Of course you are." Her breath hitched when he thrust his fingers into her quickly, deeply, before slowing to a lazy stroke. She ghosted her fingers down his stomach, towards his groin and he gave her a scolding look.
"Wait. I'll be done in a minute."
"And what exactly is it you think you're doing?" Breathless, dying to touch him.
"Calibrating."
"You are not."
"Not if you keep distracting me."
"Jane."
"Right. Good." He stilled his hand, fingers still buried inside her. With his free hand, he helped her remove her clothing entirely and immediately forgot what he was going to say as he gazed upon her nude form. Several beats passed, he hadn't moved and with his thumb still putting pressure on her most sensitive spot, Teresa was getting very hot and she squirmed, to dislodge him or to encourage him to continue, she wasn't sure.
"Jane."
He snapped out of his trance and his face spread with a dazzling smile. "We're never letting you put clothes on again." His voice was raspy. Lisbon wiggled her hips.
"Jane."
"Yes. Good thinking, Lisbon. Here it is. If I give you an orgasm, you have to call me Patrick whenever a part of my body is inside a part of yours."
"Jane..."
"Fingers or tongue? Either will get the job done."
"Dammit, Jane."

He opted for fingers, needing to watch her face. Jane knew she was close, slippery and grasping, very welcoming. The things he wanted to do to her. His fingers slid deeply, his thumb circling, pressing. She was gasping and he kissed her throat, running his tongue along her collarbone. Arching her back sensually, Teresa felt herself building up, up higher, so very high and tight and she dragged Jane's face up by his chin, kissing him deeply. She came apart then, his talented fingers so, so good and so very bad. Her internal contractions were strong, each one drawing out a very throaty, "Ohhh" from her oval shaped mouth. They slowly faded to a pleasurable ache. Jane watched her face over the next couple of minutes as she slowly came back to earth. When she was ready, she opened her eyes. He was grinning, triumphant, but she could see the awe as well.
"Jane."
"Mmm?"
"Could you be more cocky?"
"I absolutely can do that if you'd like. Anything for you, Lisbon. You did promise to call me Patrick now." He gently pulled his fingers away. They were moist and he ran them along the undersides of her breasts.
"I didn't. I'll call you whatever I want, Jane."
"You can. But if you do that then I will refer to you only as 'princess' once we get back to work. It's your choice."

Lisbon kissed Jane sweetly before delving a hand down his trousers and grasping him tightly. He groaned.
"I can't battle your wits when you do that."