Author's Note: Pure Mentalist smut. R+G 4EVA and all that. I own nothing. Bruno Heller must forgive me for using his characters as puppets in my dirty mind.


It was late. Grace stared at the digital clock as it blinked 11:37pm in the dashboard as she sat in the driver's seat of their SUV. Rigsby sat beside her in the passenger's seat. He was staring straight ahead, watching the secluded farmhouse that Lisbon had told them to watch for any signs of their latest fugitive. A suspected murderer had escaped from custody and he old girlfriend lived at this farm. It was a long shot, but Lisbon wanted all of their bases covered. Why Grace and Rigsby had drawn this delightful assignment, Grace wasn't sure. All she knew was that it was dark, she was tired, and she wanted nothing more than to crawl into her nice, warm bed back in the city and sleep for ten hours. No such luck tonight. She glanced at Rigsby. Neither of them had spoken in the last hour. No reason, really. Just sitting in companionable silence, as they'd talked for quite a bit when they'd first parked. Now, five hours later, they'd just run out of things to say and that was all right too. Rigsby felt her watching him and turned to look at her. He smiled. He always did. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing, just thinking. Trying to stay awake," she added. He nodded. He also looked like dozing was in his top three right now.

"So why aren't the local cops doing this for us?" he asked. She shrugged. "Lisbon mentioned that the suspect had friends in quasi-high places. She didn't want to risk the local cops tipping him off. Makes sense. Everyone knows everyone is these small towns." He nodded again, yawning and locking his arms behind his head while pushing his chest forward, stretching out the muscles in his neck, chest and shoulders. Grace watched the cords and tendons bunch under his shirt, flexing and rippling as he forced his body to wake up. He wasn't doing it deliberately, but he still gave Grace a nice little show. She made her head turn back towards the windshield. Watch for bad guy, don't watch cute boy with strong arms and sweet smile. Her head was starting to ache. She'd had her hair in a tight bun all day and it was starting to make her scalp hurt. Still staring out the window, she reached up behind her head and pulled out the sticks holding her hair up. Red waves tumbled down her shoulders as she ran her fingers through them, attempting to get some blood back in her poor scalp. Rigsby saw her hand reach for her bun and expertly pull two sharp sticks out of it. Her hair fell around her face in beautiful red curls. She wasn't doing anything remotely provocative as she massaged her head to dispel the ache, but Rigsby's mouth had gone dry at the sight of her loose hair dancing on her shoulders. He turned back and watched the farmhouse. No lights, no sign of life. Dear God, let something happen so I don't have to look at this fox next to me or smell her cinnamon shampoo or notice anything else she does that's distracting. Her hands moved lower as she began to massage her neck and upper shoulders. As a friend, he wanted to reach out and do it for her, using his bigger hands and better position to help relieve her muscles. As a man in love with her, he wanted to reach out and do it for her, with the intention of it leading to hardcore nudity. So he stayed still.

Grace brought her hands back to her lap and they sat again in silence. Suddenly, Grace spotted a pair of headlights in her rearview mirror. A car was heading towards them. At first she wasn't worried, they weren't stationed on the road leading to the farm, so this wouldn't be their bad guy. The car would just pass on by the SUV on its way to where ever. Then the headlights flashed and blue and red lights fired up on the roof. The car slowed as in neared them. Shit shit shit! Local cops. Just what they needed. And they were being flashed. How were they going to explain what they were doing here without giving up their ID?

Rigsby gave Grace a panicked look. He'd seen the lights and was thinking the same thing. What the hell should they do?!

Suddenly Rigby reached over and took hold of her elbows in his hands. "Sorry about this." And before she could ask why, he dragged her out of the driver's seat and into his lap, straddling his thighs. He grabbed her shirt on either side and ripped it open, buttons flying everywhere and exposing her black lace bra. He then yanked his tie off and ripped open his own shirt. More buttons flew. His chest and abdominal muscles were exposed and she got an eyeful of what she'd secretly been curious about concerning his physique. Very nice. The cop car was pulling over behind them now, taking their plate number and getting ready to get out. Rigsby grabbed Grace by the hips, grinding her down onto him and splaying her legs as far as possible. He grabbed both of their badges from their belts and threw them onto the floor. She was in total shock. What the hell was he doing?! Rigsby cupped her cheeks and gave her a fiery look. "Now kiss me like you mean it." And with that he brought her lips to his own and kissed her. Hard. His tongue swooped into her mouth and his hands were everywhere at once: groping her ass, sliding up her back, cupping her throat. Out of pure instinct resulting from millions of years of girls desiring tall handsome men, she responded, kissing him back, grabbing his shoulders, grinding her hips down into his. Her hair fell in a curtain around his face and tickled his cheeks. She shimmied her arms out of her shirt and brought her hands back to rake through his short hair as she plundered his mouth, loving how he tasted. God, he felt good.

Despite his instructions to do so, Rigsby was shocked at her reactions. He had expected she would be stiff in her acceptance of his kiss and touch, that she'd barely bring herself to put her hands on him. He would never have even considered this idea ordinarily, but it was the only reason he could imagine two people sitting in a car in the dark that a cop wouldn't find suspicious. But this? Grace was pushing herself into him, gripping his arms, clamping her knees around his hips and crushing her mouth hungrily against his. Her fingers left trails of hot tingles through his scalp. He was surrounded by her, her arms, her legs, her hair, her kisses. Cinnamon filled his nostrils and the taste of oranges filled his mouth. In his fog he remembered that she'd eaten one earlier. She was an orally fixated man's dream. Then she removed her shirt, giving him full view of her shapely cleavage, arms and tummy and his incredulity gave into animal lust. He groaned in his throat and nipped at her lower lip, sliding his hands down her sides and pulling her closer. God, she felt good.

Three harsh taps on the driver side window. Grace and Rigsby jumped and looked out at the cop standing by the door. They sheepishly ducked their heads, looking like guilty teenagers as Grace reached across and rolled down the window while trying to hide her partial nudity with her arm.

The cop swung his flashlight over both of their faces, taking in their blushing cheeks, ragged breathing and compromising position. "Aren't you kids a bit old to be fooling around in a parked car?" he asked dryly. Rigsby spoke up. "Sorry, officer. We got a bit lost and one thing led to another. Are we in trouble for parking here?"

The cop regarded them coolly. "No, you're not in trouble. Just making sure the vehicle wasn't abandoned," he smiled kindly. "If you turn around and drive for three miles, you'll come to the highway. Get home and be safe. And kids?" he paused. "Try to keep your pants on before you get there, okay?"

Grace smiled shyly. "Thank you, officer. We'll do that."

The cop turned back and got into his car. Neither Grace nor Rigsby moved until he'd turned his car around and drove away. They sat in silence, still breathing hard. Grace noticed her hands were splayed across his pecs and she instantly removed them. She also couldn't help noticing that one of his hands was gripping her upper thigh while the other was tangled in her hair. She slowly brought her eyes to his, scared to death of what she'd see in them. She reached them and found only naked desire. They still hadn't spoken. What was there to say? Suddenly Rigby's phone went off on his belt and startled them both. He removed his hand from her hair, pulled the phone from its clip and flipped it open. It was Lisbon. He put it on speaker. "Yes boss?" he answered. Grace moved her gaze back to his chest, watching it rise and fall with his breathing.

Lisbon's voice filled the car in a hollow, cacophonic way. "We got him. He tried to cross into Mexico and border patrol picked him up. You guys are off his girlfriend, so just come on home and get some sleep. You've had a full day so just take tomorrow off. Everything okay?" she asked.

Rigsby stared at Grace, who continued to stare at his chest. "Everything's fine. We'll head home. Thanks, boss," and he hung up. And just like that, they were no longer two state agents on a stakeout and trying to fool the local authorities, they were two half-naked adults pressed against each other in a parked car in the middle of nowhere. They continued to sit as the seconds drew out like a blade. Slowly, so slowly, Rigsby began to massage her thigh with his thumb. He reached up with his other hand and pressed it under her chin, nudging her to look up at him. She inhaled slowly and whispered the first thing she could think of. "You feel different than I thought." And instantly regretted it. Why did she say that? Stupid brain. She didn't need him suspecting that she fantasized about how his kissed, how he looked naked, how he would touch her. Just like she didn't need to notice how his body was harder than she imagined, how all the food he ate converted into more muscle and there didn't appear to be an ounce of fat on him anywhere. Her legs and arms had encountered nothing but solid wall. She instantly looked down in embarrassment and realized to her horror that she was still just in her bra, her shirt being abandoned somewhere on the floor. Why had she done that?! The ruse would have worked with her shirt on. Dammit! She instantly crossed her arms against her chest, shrinking back, pushing herself away from his hips and onto his knees. She felt like crying. God, this was so humiliating.

Rigsby gently wrapped his fingers around both of her wrists. He didn't pull at her arms like she thought he would, but simply shook her gently. She looked up at him, her eyes getting shiny with tears. Rigsby saw them and instantly misread them as fear and unhappiness. His heart broke at the sight. What had he been thinking? He had no right to grab her and touch her this way, even if it was just an act. And then he misread her acting abilities as eagerness and pushed her even further. Fuck! He lowered his head and pulled his hands away, holding them open on either side of him, like she'd pulled a gun on him. "Forgive me, Grace. I didn't mean to scare you. Did I hurt you? Pulling you over here? God, I'm such an idiot, I should have just shown the guy my badge. Please, please don't cry. I won't touch you again."

As upset as she already was, some deep part of her brain panicked at the loss of his touch and the guilt in his eyes. No! He didn't understand. She wasn't mad at him for kissing her, she was scared to death of how good they felt together. She was mad at herself for losing control in his arms. And now her tears had hurt him and made him feel like an animal instead of the sweet teddy bear that she knew he was. He was still looking down with his hands up, patiently waiting for her to climb out of his lap and back into her own seat. Instead, she scooted forward again and laid her head against his bare chest, wrapped her arms around his ribcage and took a shuddering breath. Rigsby stiffened, not knowing what to do. He kept his hands out, his brain reeling at her closeness. She burrowed her face into his skin. "Just hold me please." He slowly brought his arms down and wrapped them around her, one around her back and the other cradling her head. His fingers gently stroked her hair. She wasn't crying, he knew that much. He took a chance and rested his cheek against her hair. More cinnamon, damn she smells good. She sighed and relaxed a little. His arms felt so safe, so strong. She felt warm and protected, she didn't even care that she was still topless. She just wanted to sit like this, stroked and petted and cared for. She spoke up, needing him to understand. "You didn't hurt me, Wayne. I just feel embarrassed."

He nuzzled her hair. "What on earth are you embarrassed for? I'm the one who grabbed you, tore your clothes and made you act that way. You just followed my lead. You did nothing wrong," he said.

She shook her head against him. "I'm embarrassed because I wasn't acting."

His heart stopped. Suddenly he felt as though his lungs had been ripped out. He couldn't breath. His fingers stilled in her hair. No way, she couldn't mean that. It couldn't be that she had kissed him, touched him because she wanted to. He thought of her lips on his, the heat of her skin, the feel of her body pressed to his. The idea that she meant it made his senses short-circuit. He tightened his arms around her. He had to know. "Are you saying you wanted me to kiss you? To touch you like I did?" She looked up into his face and took a steadying breath. Might as well face the music. "Yeah," she answered. "That's why you feel different than I thought. I'd imagined us together before now." Rigsby inhaled sharply and felt a surge pull deep in his abdomen. He kept still, afraid that the slightest movement would either ruin the moment or wake him up from this dream. She continued to gaze at him. She looked so small and vulnerable curled up in his lap. He ached with longing to touch her, kiss her, keep her safe in his arms. He traced a single finger down her cheek. "I've imagined us too," he whispered. She smiled at him softly. "And how did it compare?" He blushed and looked down. "I always imagined what it would be like to be with you, hold you, touch you. But I never imagined you holding me, touching me, wanting me as badly as I wanted you. I guess because I thought you never would. Want me, I mean."

Grace melted at his sweetness. A gladiator who blushed. It was too cute to bear. She sat up in his lap and brought her arms around his neck. He looked up at her and their eyes held. She scraped her nails lightly along the nape of his neck. "Hold still," she whispered. She came forward and gently brushed her lips against his forehead, trailing down to his temple, his eyelid, his cheek, his jaw. She never formed a kiss, just explored his face with her lips. Rigsby sighed huskily. When she reached his ear, she whispered to him, "What would you imagine now, knowing that I want you?" He gasped into her neck, amazed that the woman who'd been close to tears just a few minutes ago was brazenly asking him to describe his sexual fantasies to her. No woman had ever requested such a thing from him. His adrenaline level spiked and his heart rate increased. The pull in his belly now began to push lower, his erection growing fast as she continued her journey down his throat. He pushed through the lump in his throat and started to speak. "I see us at work late at night. We're the only ones there, finishing up some paperwork. You're in a skirt, reading a file and looking very bookish and sexy. I can't stop looking at your legs. They're driving me crazy. You notice my gaze and smile at me, all kittenish. You don't speak, but you slowly walk over to me and jump on my desk in front of me. I stand up and pull your legs around my waist, hiking your skirt up to your hips. You unbuckle my belt, unzip me, pull out my cock and work it in your hands as I slide my hands up your shirt, touching you everywhere. You position me and your legs pull me in. You're so tight and delicious I can barely stand it. I take you hard on the desk and you moan my name a dozen times as you push against me. We both come screaming."

Grace gasped into his throat, his words causing her breath to hitch and her body to ache with need. She slipped down from his lap, her knees on the floor. She keeps her lips on his chest, still traveling slowly down his stomach. She loved the hard little bunches of muscles that made up his six pack. Her hands moved to his belt and she tugged at the buckle. "Like this?" she smiled kittenishly. His breathing was coming out in ragged gasps. He nodded. She followed with his fly, unzipping him slowly. God, he was fun to tease. His face was so tense, he eyes full of lust. Never before had she been so forward with a man, but his scenario had ignited boldness in her, knowing what he wanted and how he wanted it. She reached into his pants and stroked him. His hips jolted and his hands instantly flew back behind him to grip the headrest. "Like this?" she batted her eyes at him. Eyes squeezed tight, he nodded again. She thrilled at watching him. So powerful. So completely in her thrall. He fascinated her. She wrapped her fingers around his erection and pulled it out and away from his pants. She shuddered with desire at his size, thick and long like the rest of him. "Do you mind if I take some artistic license with what happens next?" she asked sweetly. "God, no," he rasped.

And with that she took him deep in her throat, sucking hard and using her tongue to lick and brush along his shaft. "Fuck!" he yelled and banged his head back against the headrest, still gripping it with his hands. She moaned against him and moved up and down rapidly, intoxicated by his taste, by his reaction, by the ache between her legs. She continued to suck him, sliding one hand over his stomach and using the other to lightly massage his balls. He grasped her hands and pulled her upward against the length of his body. His eyes were burning and his face was tight with need. "Come here," he said, and opened the car door. He pulled her by her hands out of the passenger door, opened the back door and, grabbing her by her hips, lifted her onto the back bench. "Scoot all the way back," he ordered. Her heart skipped at his husky tone. She wondered if she'd pushed her sweet teddy bear out completely and unleashed the gladiator. She obeyed and moved to the far side. He followed her in and shut the door. He shrugged out of his shirt and then gripped her legs, grasping at her belt, unzipping her pants and pulling them down her legs. He left her high heels on. She reached for them, but he batted her hands away. "Leave them," he said. He stared down at her now wearing nothing but panties, a bra and heels. He was still panting from her blow job, his chest heaving, his pants slung below his hips, his cock jutting prominently. "Now you tell me what you imagine, knowing I want you, Grace."

Goosebumps broke out over her arms as he bent over her, panting and staring so intently at her. She swallowed. Tit for tat and in for a penny, right? She picked one of her dirtiest scenarios.

"I imagine that I've pushed you over the edge, that you can't control yourself anymore and I'm glad. I want you to lose control. You rip my panties off and slide your fingers into me. You mock me, tell me how wet I am for you. Tell me how badly I need to get fucked. You rub my clit and order me to say your name. I say it. I scream it. You rip my bra off and suck my nipples, biting them while you finger me. I dig my heels into your thighs and beg you to fuck me. You make me say it again. You say, "Tell me how bad you need fucking, Grace. How much do you need my cock?" I beg you. "Fuck me, Wayne. Pleasepleaseplease. I need you inside me so bad. Just you. Only you." You grip my legs and plunge deep. No sweetness, no taking it slow. Just fucking. I beg you for more and you call me a tight little cocktease and order me to come. I come screaming in your arms and you roar as you come in me."

Rigsby stared at Grace, astonished. His worst fear about losing control was her fantasy. She wanted him rough, wanted him angry and borderline cruel. He hesitated. He knew that he could never really be the man she just described. It simply wasn't in his nature to treat women so ruthlessly, even if he completely lost it. But he also knew that cruelty was not what Grace really wanted, anymore than he really expected them to have sex on his desk, it was just a sexy, slightly dangerous scene in her head. She knew he could play the part and still treat her right. He was touched and insanely aroused that she'd trust him enough to dominate her sexually, knowing how much she valued control. So if she was willing, he could get a little rough. Just a little. He reached down between them and grabbed the thin black lace of her panties and ripped them clean off of her. The fabric tore with little resistance. Grace flinched and gasped. He's really going to do it. He was going to take her with the same ferocity that she'd described. She shuddered in anticipation. He grabbed the passenger seat headrest for balance and slid his other hand between her legs, shocked to find her so wet. Grace mewled in delight, arching into his touch. He lowered his head and hissed at her, "Such a naughty girl, Grace. So wet. You must want it bad." She nodded quickly. He stroked her faster, pressing harder. "What is it you want, Grace? Good girls ask nicely," he goaded. She gasped and arched again. "You. I want you. Just you, please Wayne. I need you." Rigsby's heart sang with joy at her words, but he kept his face flinty and cold. His finger slipped inside of her, gently tracing her folds, using his thumb to circle her clit. She cried out. He growled, "How bad do you need fucking, Grace?" She was panting and riding his fingers desperately, reaching backwards and grabbing the door handle, opening her entire body to him. "Soooo bad, need you so bad. Pleasepleaseplease. Fuck me, please." His cock jolted at her words, wanting to fulfill them more than anything. He held back, wanting her to get the fantasy she had asked for. "Say my name, Grace. Say it and mean it." She opened her eyes and focused all of her lust on him. "Wayne. Fuck me, Wayne." She bucked under his hand and shivered. He removed his hand and positioned himself between her legs. He had no intention of taking her as hard as she had said, after all this was their first time together, so he also took some artistic license. He brushed his tip at her entrance, running it along her folds and hitting her clit. She whimpered, bucking forward, wanting all of him. He lightly smacked her on the ass and her eyes flew open. He continued to tease her with his tip. "No. Good girls take what they're given, Grace. Are you going to behave?" She looked at him through hooded eyes. God, he was good at this. She loved this role of his, so much better than the one she'd created in her mind. She loved the gravel in his voice and the predatory glint in his eyes. "Yes, sir. I'll be good. May I have more please?" He chuckled despite himself. A little girl asking politely. Well, who was he to disappoint her? He plunged deeply into her tight little body. She cried out. He groaned. So tight, he thought. So big, she thought. He shook his head and remembered his part. He began to stroke slowly in her, aware in the back of his mind that at last he was making love to Grace. He reveled in her softness and heat, she felt better than anything he had imagined. Her stunning legs wrapped around him, her taut belly, her lovely breasts, her beautiful face and her delightful mind were, for the moment, all his. They were sharing fantasies, almost like it wasn't them at all, but maybe that's what made it possible. It was easier for them to come to terms with their feelings this way.

He smacked her ass again and pulled her legs up so that her knees bent over his shoulders and her thighs pushed against his chest. This angle pushed him so deep inside her that he nearly fainted with pleasure. "Is this what you want? Getting fucked like this in your tight little pussy?" She moaned and thrust her hips into his. "Yes!" she cried. His hands began to work her. Despite his aggressive words, his touch was gentle. He cupped her breasts, lovingly traced her ribs down to her bellybutton, massaged her clit. She moved desperately beneath him, wanting everything he gave her. She whimpered in frustration, she wanted much, much more.

Rigsby watched in amazement. She was beautiful. Glorious. Her arms were still thrown back and her mouth open in a pretty little O of pleasure. His cock jumped inside of her, remembering how that O had sucked him so exquisitely.

He decided to make his asshole character a bit sweeter. "You're being such a good girl, Grace. You're such a hot little fuck. Now I want you to do something for me." She looked up at him. "Yes, sir," she whispered. "Good girl. I want you to sit on my lap and ride me. I want to watch you fuck me and don't stop until you come. Can you do that?" Her eyes rolled back and she nodded. He withdrew from her and his body raged at his momentary loss. He sat back into the seat and Grace followed, straddling his lap as she'd done earlier. She lowered herself onto him, enveloping him again in her luscious body. Oh Christ, she felt wonderful. He had better access to her now and took full advantage of it, unhooking her bra and sucking on her nipples and cupping her ass, making her take more of him. She ground her hips into him, arching into his mouth and calling out his name. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to fuck her as himself, not some heartless bastard. He captured her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, softly. She continued to ride him, gripping his shoulders and lifting herself up and down his shaft. He broke the kiss and buried his face in her throat. "Grace, sweet Grace." She pushed him back to looked into his eyes. She saw love in them, the kindest, purest love she'd ever known. She cupped his cheeks. "Talk to me as you, Wayne. Just you. I want to hear you."

He gripped her hips and thrust upwards, causing her to gasp. He began to whisper fervently as he drove into her. "Beautiful…wonderful…sweet…sexy…adorable Grace. Need you so much. Want you so much. You look so good. You fuck so good. Ride me, baby. Please don't stop." Grace shuddered at his words. They were so much sexier than his alter ego's. And he gave them freely, without the slightest hint of embarrassment or shyness. He deserved the same, deserved to know that she wanted her teddy bear and not some imaginary jerk. She continued to hold his head in her hands and whispered back, "Wayne, I want you so badly. So strong, so safe. You feel so damn good. I love touching you like this." He pulled her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips. She felt her muscles tighten and sweet pressure building up with each thrust of their hips. "I'm coming," she whispered. He smiled. "Come for me, Grace. Come loud." She thrust her hips desperately a few more times as Rigsby held her tight, then she snapped her head back and screamed. Rigsby was right behind her, ramming upwards and roaring like a beast. They rode out their orgasms together, moving slower and slower until they came to a stop, Grace collapsing on his chest in exhaustion. They sat together, sweating and panting in post-coital bliss. He held her again, one arm around her back and the other cradling her head, stroking her hair. "I love you," he whispered. She raised her head to meet his eyes. She blushed. "I'm falling for you too. I think tonight might have pushed me over the edge completely." He laughed softly. "I live in hope," he said. She looked around the car at the shoes, shirts, pants and buttons scattered everywhere. "I still can't believe you tore my shirt off me. What a brute you are," she giggled as she brushed her lips against his. He smiled against them. "Well, someone has to think up all the good ideas. Where was yours, missy? What were you going to tell that cop?"

She shrugged. "You're right, a make out session was pretty original. But you're still buying me a new shirt. AND new underwear." He hugged her tightly. "If you'll model them for me, I'll buy you all the underwear you want." She giggled again.

They dressed as best they could and turned the SUV around to head back to the city. Grace drove up to Rigsby's building and put it in park. "This is your stop, mister," she said. He leaned over to her and captured her face in his hands. "Stay with me tonight. It's almost morning and we have the day off. I don't want to sleep without you beside me and I sure as hell don't want a day to pass without seeing you." She turned her face into his hand and kissed his palm. She knew she shouldn't. She should go home, change her clothes, allow herself time to think about what happened. But she couldn't leave him, not now. She needed him. She wanted those arms around her as she slept. Her apartment felt a million miles away and horribly cold. And clothes were overrated anyway. "Okay," she agreed. "But you're lending me a tee shirt." His smile lit up his whole face. They mounted the steps together and closed the door behind them. They fell into bed exhausted and slept soundly entwined in each other's arms. Tit for tat and definitely in for a penny.