Spoilers/Timeline: None/Set in the future

A/N: Umm, yeah, so this first time I've written M for this pairing and I find myself a tad nervous about it. I hope it turned out well and that I managed to keep everyone IC even in the crazy situation my brain concocted for this one. Lots of love to bloodwrites for being a fabulous sounding board.

Disclaimer: The Mentalist doesn't belong to me; Title taken from Sugarland's Incredible Machine.

She leaned forward, almost knocking her head on the seat in front of her as she rummaged through her carry-on searching for her emergency supply of tylenol. It had been a taxing, brutal case and the four hour plus trip back was not helping.

It wasn't that they hadn't discovered who was responsible for the strangulations. No, it was that Jane was driving her absolutely crazy.

She knew he hated long flights, loathed them, but a trip to the opposite coast as a favor to Minelli (she'd never heard her former boss and mentor as panicked as when he'd called about his brother's supposed involvement) had made it impossible to avoid.

The trip out had been comparatively fine, he'd studied the crime scene photos and suspect interviews quietly, his leg twitching the entire time.

It would have been welcome now.

He couldn't sit still, kept asking her questions or sharing obscure facts about the other passengers on the flight. She'd finally sent him back four rows to annoy Grace for a bit.

(She'd have to remember to leave a soy latte on the younger woman's desk the next morning.)

It wasn't that she didn't understand or care about him. She did, had for longer than she'd cared to admit. Hell, the rest of her team knew before she did that she was in love with him. Their "big announcement" two years ago only being met with a resigned groan from Rigsby and Cho raising an eyebrow from behind the case files he was initialing.

Confined in a small airplane cabin left her with very few options to entertain him though. She'd tried books, a crossword, even picking a lighthearted fight, but it was no use.

It was even more frustrating because she normally didn't mind trips like this. In fact, the little packs of animal crackers and getting the chance to catch up on some movies she'd missed made it fun.

That was before the headache to end all—

Grinning, she pulled the tylenol from her bag and swallowed it, idly wondering if Jane had wandered further back the plane to bother the other members of the team.

Their tickets for the return trip had been found at the last minute, spreading their seats through the aircraft. Of course, Jane had charmed the woman sitting next to her into switching spots five minutes after they'd left the ground; he was probably regretting that now as a four-year-old had been kicking his seat for the past two hours.

No wonder he'd barely blinked when she'd told him to check and see if Grace needed a lift back to headquarters.

Opening her book once more, she slid back in her seat, breathing deeply as she let the words pull her in, the soft hum of air supply drown out anything else.

She was so engrossed that she didn't even realize he was back until his shoulder bumped hers, hand closed on the upper half of the page, his fingers obscuring the words.

"That precocious child is finally slumbering so..." He shrugged, a heavy sigh vibrating in his chest. "that's good."

"Yes, though I'm a little concerned you slipped something in her juice when you walked back the aisle." She grinned, tipping her head towards him.

"Me? Never." Laughing, he ran a hand through his hair and winked at her. His eyes still couldn't quite focus, his jaw tense, as he leaned into her. "I'm astonished that you would even consider—"

"Oh please." She shoved him, hand pressed firmly to his chest as she slid her book back into her bag.

There would be no more reading the rest of the trip.

She didn't need a psychic, fake or not, to tell her that.

Turning, she watched as he tried to get comfortable, reclining the seat as much as possible, folding his hands over his stomach, closing his eyes and inhaling slowly.


Shifting even further so her back was towards the window, she closed the tiny space between them, pressing her lips to his jaw, letting her hands drift across his shoulders, down his sides. She sighed against him, her teeth scraping over his throat as her fingers flexed against his waist, tapped out a rhythm she knew he enjoyed.

"Teresa..." He caught her by the wrists as her hands started to move lower, his breathing already becoming erratic. "Don't start something you can't finish..."

Chuckling, she reached up, flicking off the reading light and unearthing the blanket she'd tucked next to her in case she got cold. Throwing it over his lap, she leaned forward, shielding him from view of any passing flight attendants.

Her mouth covered his, her hand slipping under his shirt and stroking across his back. He groaned against her, heat radiating through his body as she teased and touched and—

"Oh god, woman, you have to stop."

Smirking, she pushed back the armrest separating their seats. "Quiet."

He couldn't have argued if he wanted to.

Her fingers quickly unzipped his fly, knuckles brushed against his erection as she kissed him once more.

Hard and demanding, full of heat and lust and love.

His eyes slammed closed, fingers clutching at the seat cushion as her hand closed around him.

She began to move slowly—sodamnslowly—her mouth pressed hotly to his throat, nails drawing crescents into his hip as her thumb brushed over the head of him. His hips jerked forward in response and she smiled, increasing her pace.

Attempting to suppress a grunt, he bit down on his lower lip, his arm wrapping around her waist, tugging her even closer to him.

"Like that, eh?"

"God, you know I—"

"Mhmm." She leaned back, tension coiling low in her belly as she felt him harden even further beneath her. Gasping softly, she continued to move over him, stroking him faster as his breathing became more and more shallow, his knuckles flared white as he tried to hold on as long as possible. "Just let..."

"Shit, that's..." He groaned, eyes flying open as she gripped him more firmly.

The corner of her mouth tipped down, her hand falling away as she leveled a glare at him, half in warning and half... was that?

The saucy little minx was proud.

Her eyes bright in the dim cabin light, a pretty flush sweeping across her cheeks.

He pitched forward, capturing her mouth and smiling against her as she moaned in surprise. Her hand settled high on his thigh as the other encircled him once more, moving from base to tip of him over and over.

Up and down, faster and faster and—

"Yes, Lisbon... Lisbooooon..." His breathing hitched, head thrashed against the seat as the pleasure coursed through him and he came.

Gasping, he vaguely noticed her pressing the blanket to him before she settled back in her seat, resting her head against his shoulder.

"Finally feeling relaxed?"

"I don't think 'relaxed' is the appropriate term, my dear." He ran his hand down her arm, grinning at the goosebumps that followed his path. "Breathless, astounded, satisfied... all a bit more fitting."

Rolling her eyes, she smiled. "Semantics aside, you better. I'd hate to risk arresting myself for nothing."

"If I recall last week..." He slipped his hand under her shirt, pressing a kiss to her temple. "That's part of my job description now."

"Only in our bedr—" She inhaled sharply as his fingers stroked over the curve of her waist, sending a jolt of warmth down her spine as she closed her eyes and bit down on the inside of her cheek. "God, how much longer is this flight?"