Title: Never-ending Torture
Author: Exquisitliltart
Disclaimer: I do not own these lovely characters
Summary: Jane/Maura. A possible reason why Maura acts the way she does in Season 2, episode 3.
Rating: R

Maura loved Fridays…up until very recently, that is. Typically, Friday meant a longer day than usual at work. There was extra pressure on her to look for clues when other leads were exhausted and the detectives tried to tie up loose ends before the weekend. Typically, after work Jane and Maura would meet at the ' Robber' for a few drinks, and recap the events of the day, amidst thwarting failed attempts at pick-ups from various men.

Before long, Jane would proclaim she needed to go home to tend to Jo Friday. Maura would dutifully come along, invitation open and unspoken. They would hear the frantic scratching and barking before they were even to Jane's apartment door. Maura delighted in watching Jane enthusiastically greet her energetic doggy, and they would promptly embark on a relaxing walk around the neighborhood.

When they returned to the apartment they would open up a bottle of red for Maura and crack a cold beer for Jane. Then maybe order some takeout or just eat a bowl of cereal for dinner, depending on their mood. Jane would usually suggest they watch a movie, and on cue, Maura would produce the latest of a never ending supply of forensic pathology documentaries she just happened to have in her bag. [ The more grotesque and boring the better, in Maura's opinion.]
Even though she hated them, Jane would never protest. They would sit on their respective sides of the couch, Jane on the left and Maura on the right. Maura would make sure the drinks kept flowing and she would look for signs that Jane was winding down: heavy eyelids and increased yawns.

Then Maura would shrug her shoulders and tilt her head back and forth, until Jane asked if her neck was sore from hunching over bodies in the autopsy bay. Maura would demure, but keep up the stretching until Jane inevitably offered to rub her shoulders. Maura would gaze at Jane and then politely decline and maintain she was fine, but Jane would gently insist until Maura would inevitably give in.

Jane would smile and pat her lap, beckoning her over, and Maura would slowly crawl over to her, shifting onto her lap seamlessly. As the documentary went more in-depth, Jane would have long ago lost interest in the onscreen activities and focus all of her attention on working out the kinks in Maura's neck. Jane would gently smooth her hair over to one side and touch her neck lightly until Maura asked for more pressure. Jane would happily oblige. A few well-timed moans and sighs on Maura's part and Jane would suddenly be wide awake and working magic on Maura's sore muscles.

The longer the film went on, Jane would work her hands back and forth over Maura's neck and shoulders until she would move to her collar bone, and then Jane would slowly run her strong hands lower-over Maura's breasts, gently kneading her supple flesh. Maura's nipples always hardened instantly, and pangs of delight coursed through her body. She would arch herself into Jane's hands, listening for the telltale sound of Jane's increased breathing that signaled her arousal.

Jane would begin to nip at her neck in just the practiced way that Maura craved. She'd wait patiently to feel Jane reach for her zipper to get her out of her dress, under the guise of making her more comfortable. Maura would eagerly shed her dress and undergarments, and flip over to straddle Jane's hips and help her out of her shirt. Maura would reach for Jane's belt, and start to fumble with the clasp. This always proved difficult because Maura could barely control the undulation of her own hips against Jane's at this point. Jane would place her hands on top of Maura's to still her momentarily. She'd lean forward and suggest they go to bed. Maura would nod, usually grinning uncontrollably. She would reluctantly lift herself off of Jane who would immediately take her hand and drag her into the bedroom. The documentary would drone on forgotten, while they made love all night.

That was last Friday. Correction: that was the last good Friday. This Friday, the evening had begun as usual at the Dirty Robber. From there, they went to Jane's to walk Jo, and all was going as planned. Maura had a particularly horrible movie about new research into various body preservatives that she just knew Jane would abhor .[Which pretty much guaranteed her an orgasm before they even left the couch, or so she thought] They had dinner and a second and third round of drinks. Maura knew they were both feeling the effects of the alcohol when her head was pleasantly buzzing and her body felt completely relaxed. Just as Jane was reaching out to pull Maura into her lap- they heard a clanging and a key turning in Jane's lock.

Like the cartoon Tasmanian devil, Angela Rizzoli whirred loudly into Jane's apartment. Jane's hands flew up off of Maura as if she had been burned. Angela was oblivious to the tension, and already complaining about how lonely she was. She helped herself to Maura's wine, and raided the fridge. She made herself up a plate of left over carryout, before plopping down right between them on the couch. As soon as she caught sight of what on the television she made a disgusted noise and grabbed the remote. She promptly stopped the movie and flipped over to the home and garden network.

Maura tried not to get annoyed by the intrusion. She reminded herself that Angela was going through a rough time and needed Jane's support. Jane attempted to calm her mother down and get her out so they could continue with their evening uninterrupted. She looked apologetically to Maura as it was too late: Angela had decided to stay the night at Jane's because she didn't want to be alone.

"Um, I see it's getting rather late, so I think I'd better just go," Maura sighed dejected, as she tried to excuse herself.

"No, no! Maura, please stay. We're not on call at all tomorrow," Jane pleaded through gritted teeth; in a last ditch effort to salvage their long awaited Friday night.

"Oh, Maura, if you've had too much to drink you can sleep right here on the couch, I'll just curl up beside Jane in the bedroom," Angela offered. "Do you remember when you were a little girl and we'd read stories in bed until you fell asleep?"

"Ma, stop! It would be best if you stay here on the couch and Maura sleeps with me," Jane tried to reason. "Maura can't sleep on the couch because of her…um, back pain."

"Oh! I have a great chiropractor- Lenny over on 5th street- I think I have his card in my purse. Jane, go and grab my purse, will you? Let me get Lenny's card for Maura."

"We're going to bed," Jane possessively took Maura by the arm, and yelled over her shoulder on the way to the bedroom, "Good night, Ma!"

Once in the bedroom, Jane was worked up, "Now that she's here, she's never going to leave. Mark my words." Even though, Jane desperately wanted Maura to stay, there was no way she could have sex knowing her mom was one thin wall away.

"Hopefully, tomorrow we can-" Maura paused, searching for the right words. [Somehow, the phrase 'fuck like bunnies' sounded crude given the circumstance]-finish our "documentary."

Sadly, this was not to be. Saturday, Angela insisted they spend the day antiquing and the evening going through scrapbooks. Maura was barely tolerating Angela at this point, but she couldn't leave poor Jane to deal with her all on her own.

That night Maura tried to initiate some physical contact with Jane, but Jane refused, knowing there was a very real possibility that her mother would burst into the bedroom at any moment. Maura promised to be quiet, but they both knew that was impossible. Maura was willing to risk it, but Jane was not willing to face the prospect of the impending awkwardness that situation was bound to cause. It proved incredibly difficult to sleep so close to each other, and not be able to do anything. Maura thought maybe she would be better off on the couch, despite her "back problems."

By Sunday morning, [or as Maura thought of it: 'day 3 of never-ending torture'] they had somehow gotten roped into taking Angela for brunch, even though it was her idea and she insisted on driving. It was the beginning of fleet week, and Maura was so horny she was about to pounce on anything that moved. Jane was incredibly cranky from pent up sexual frustration; not to mention, dealing with her mother for such an extended period of time. Maura was trying her best to be outwardly polite and composed, but on the inside she was about to explode.

As if it felt the exact same way, on cue, Angela's car blew up.