Well, this is it. The last and not awkward physical encounter! Oh, and you know... the end. It's a treat because it's extra long, has smut (note that the rating as changed to M), and has both points of views. You can thank the four tests and three essays for the delay of this update. You can also thank Lana Del Rey's Million Dollar Man once again for helping me finish this piece. Oh, and just to let you know, I haven't written smut in over a year, so this is a little rusty but I did try my best. All mistakes (because there's some, guaranteed) are mine and will fix them when I spot 'em.
Thank you, so, so, so, much for every single person who's read and followed this. Reviewed or not, I appreciate the time you've all taken to read Decent Exposure. Hopefully I did this final chapter justice. Now, enjoy!
Show and Tell
She runs a hand through the unruly curls of her hair as she finally breaks from her mould. Jane resists the urge to lick away the dryness of her lips, the desire to preserve the mark Maura's left on them overpowering the habit. She stills the hand midway through the gesture, redirecting it to her throbbing temple while the other balls itself into a fist. Jane plops herself forward on the couch, and as she breaks through the air and a familiar scent hits her nose, she's reminded of one fact.
Maura kissed her, and despite the definitiveness of her decision, she kissed back.
Jane rises from her hunched position and lies herself completely against the couch, quickly coming to realize what a miracle it is that she's spent nearly five years sleeping on this thing. She needs to replace it, and fast; the loose spring pushing against her back is only an attestation. She brushes the side of her lips with a thumb, and as if the pooling heat between her legs and the rapid thumping in her chest isn't enough proof, she brings her fingers up into view. The realization finally sets in when the colour of Maura's lips fade into her skin.
"I've had time to think about it."
So has Jane, but the more those words play over in her mind, the more she realizes how much Maura's considered, and if her own even level with that. Jane rethinks the worth of her feelings and if the decision she's made is either a loss or gain. And when those gears that have to consider such emotion start turning despite their rustic state, it's then – when she has no arm to grip and no eyes to stare in for reassurance – that Jane becomes painfully aware of her loneliness. In all her years in her apartment, there's never been an instant where Jane's felt lonely. Of course she's been alone, but lonely?
Those are two different things.
There's been times where she was surrounded by hundreds of people and she's felt lonely.
There's been times where she's felt company with no one other than herself.
But to feel lonely in the place she has the right to feel otherwise in? It isn't fair. It isn't fair that her sanctuary has been trampled on. Again. Then again, it isn't fair the way everything happened tonight – it isn't fair that Maura left before she could say anything. It isn't fair that her mind stopped her, refuting the gentle requests of her heart. It isn't fair–
The sounds outside her window stop her mind from swirling into negativity, the distinct clack on the concrete ringing familiarly in her ears. Jane rises from the couch and approaches the open window with caution. "What the.." she glances at her watch, quickly realizing not even five minutes have passed since Maura's left. When she brings her wrist down to lean on the ledge and support the weight of her curiosity, the sounds stop, only to be replaced with another familiar but unpleasant sound – Maura's cries. Against her better judgment, Jane looks out the window, and when they land on Maura and the mess that she is, she can't look away; the glass is the screen and Maura is the show.
A very doleful show. A show she wants so badly to pause, rewrite and rewind.
Jane sees the way the ends of her curls flutter out with her deep breaths. She sees the way her tears flow over the hand that tries to cover her cries. She sees the way the other presses against the hood of the car, supporting her weak knees as she makes her way inside.
If her feet hadn't been bolted to the floor, Jane would be outside in an instant. Yet it wouldn't be right of her – Maura's given her space and in turn Jane should only do the same. It's only when Maura shuts the door does it all deafen her; when the white noise comes rushing into Jane's ears and creates chaos. It forces her to pull away, covering her ears and plopping back down onto the couch. Then, when she hears the engine start and the slight screech of tires, Jane places her hands at her sides. Her thumbs make a move for her scars as she gets back to thinking.
It's only minutes later she realizes that perhaps, the most unfair thing of tonight is that she let Maura leave. Because Jane knows Maura. She knows that just because she's let this big secret off her chest she won't feel any better. Like leaving a victim at a crime scene and losing forensic evidence with each passing second, Jane knows that every second Maura spends alone, a part of her sanity slips away. And that's what bothers her – that Maura just dumped all this load of, mind you, requited emotion onto her shoulders and carried the greater burden of worry on her own. That she wouldn't even let Jane try to lift it away.
Because she could, and if she was given the chance, she would.
Without even thinking she rises and pulls the keys out from the pocket of her blazer.
Jane is always one to run on rationality. Though some are surprised at the fact, it's true. When she gives into Ma's ideas of bonding time, rationality is present. Even when she's chasing down a perp without back-up, rationality is present.
But when she's locking the door, starting her car and turning into the roads that will eventually lead her to turn into Maura's, rationality is not present. At all. And when the rationality isn't present – when her body takes complete control and guides every muscle in her body to do what it needs for relief – it's bad. It happens when a case is tough and she drinks everything she possibly can to push down the frustration and guilt. It happens when she thinks about her Father, wherever the Hell he is, and she finds herself smashing things she doesn't need but still wants. It happens on occasion, and she's usually fine with it. She's fine with having those brief moments of insanity. It all usually comes flooding back the morning after, and she's fine with that too.
Better to live out the consequences of your mania than to live in it.
But when she finds herself acting out of impulse, suddenly snapping out of it to face whatever her body's forced her into, that's when Jane knows it's really bad. It's only when she's at Maura's door does it dawn upon her that this is one of those moments. Common courtesy pushes the doorbell before she's able to stop it. It rings, loudly, like some sort of alarm in her mind telling her that this is it. That it's happening now, and if she's chicken her legs are all for running. But when Maura opens the door, hair parted unevenly, eyes red and color splashed outside the lines of her lips, it's then she realizes that she can't.
Now that Jane's here, she can't leave Maura like this. So she doesn't. She fights the fear conducting her nerves and steps inside.
"I'm not gay." If her hands hadn't been busy locking the door, Jane's fairly certain they'd be covering her mouth in humiliation. "I mean," she sighs and turns around, unsure of where this is going, "I don't... I've never dated a woman. Kissed some, sure, with the help of booze." The back she finds herself facing now turns, half with curiosity and half with something else Jane can't distinguish. "I don't feel like this. I've gotten butterflies for Casey and even wore a dress for Dean, but with you..." Jane takes a step closer towards the woman, swinging back on the balls of her feet. "I don't think you understand, Maur, how I get around you." Her voice lowers to that raspy tone, the courage finally running thin as the timidness emerges.
"Then try to make me." Maura says. It's free of challenge, judgment and of everything that can possibly hinder Jane.
Dark eyes search the other woman's before she finally puts her fidgetting hands to work. One buttons down her shirt as the other grabs hold of Maura's hand. Jane guides it up and presses it flat against her chest. "This," she says, able to hear the thumping in her ears, "is how I get around you. And when you left, I could have sworn it stopped."
"Jane," Maura makes no move to pull away, only sighing at her exageration. She knows that tone. "Heart palpatations are within the realms of occurence, but having it stop completely is physically impossible. That is if–"
"I thought it was impossible to love you."
Thankfully, it shuts Maura up.
"Like... you know I love you." She speaks down to the ground quietly, shoulders rising with the obvious statement. "But I didn't know I could love you, love you." Jane takes the hand and opens it, her fingers mindlessly tracing the lines inside. "I asked you how much you loved me, and it wasn't fair when even I can't answer that question."
Maura pulls away, a little startled at her words. "You don't know?"
"That's not what I said."
"You essentially said you don't know how much you love me."
"You're missing the important part. I love you." Jane stresses the last three words. "Why does it matter how much?"
"Because I need to know." Maura steps back, her eyes blinking away the vulnerability as her defenses rise. "What if one day one it just stops? How can I possibly know that my love won't ever run short?" She brings a hand up to her chest, jabbing her fingers against it. "How can I know this is even real, Jane? Love is intangible. I have nothing to prove it's existence apart from the vessel it lies in." The finger then points to Jane, and in the split second of pause she notices just how much it trembles. "And you? You're not absolute. I can wake up one day and you can be gone." The insecurity flashes across her green eyes as Jane's stomach drops at the words. "I told you I love you, and it petrifies me how certain I am of that when there's everything else telling me that I shouldn't be." Maura lifts her hands up in defeat, dropping them to her side. "So yes, it matters to me."
Jane runs a hand through her hair, rubbing the back of her neck as she tries to get a grasp of her own thoughts. "Please, hear me out, okay?" She brings both of her hands into a clasp and rests her chin upon them. Maura nods at her plea. "Remember that night Hoyt escaped and I came here?" Another nod signals for her to continue. "I told you that I've never been so scared in my entire life. And I was telling the truth. That was the most scared I've ever been back then. But now... this," Jane gestures to the rather wide gap between them, "this really scares me, Maur. You know how I am when it comes to this. I'm used to being alone and I'm used to being left. I'm okay on my own. But when you left me there," she hitches a thumb to her back and behind her, "alone, with everything... it..." Jane takes her hand and rubs the crook of her neck, "There's just times when you leave and I get sad. I try to shake it off but it doesn't go away until I'm with you again. And I realized, at that moment, that I can't ever be okay with being alone again." She fails to keep her voice steady, the crack in the last word making Maura step closer.
The woman's words contradict the bravery of her actions. "I was trying to give you space, to think out your thoughts as I had the opportunity to do with mine." Maura's response is meek, the shuffle in her steps evident with her guilt.
"I don't need space." Jane counters. "I just need you. This is something I've never given anyone all of, but it's something I'm willing to give to you, if you take it. And this," she lapses a hand over the one on her shoulder, "can't ever be measured."
"It doesn't make sense."
"It's love. It's not really supposed to make sense." She shrugs. Jane's done her best at explaining and all she can hope for is complete understanding. Maura may have vocalized overcoming her fears, but Jane's shown that she's done the same by coming here, and she trusts that to be seen. When the silence stretches out with comfort and time deems it safe, she brings a hand up to cup Maura's jaw.
Maura then sighs into the touch, and that's when Jane feels it – the ounce of doubt still on that tongue, waiting to be resolved. She pulls herself closer to the woman as her voice lowers to a near whisper. "And if I have to show you everyday that I love you, I will." Jane closes the gap between them, mumbling her last words onto Maura's lips. When they meet it's different. Neither moan. Neither are hungry. Neither are thirsty. Neither are desirous of the other.
This kiss – this soft and stilled act of intimacy – is a ressurance of everything said and waiting to be said.
Jane's tongue flicks away the uncertainty that lingers on Maura's, and when she pulls away, swallowing whatever she's taken and opening her eyes, she sees it. She sees all of what's left in those dark eyes, green softly lining the edges.
A minute of an unbroken glance passes by before their lips clash against each other, bruising the tips of their noses as their hands search for something to grasp. Jane tries to ignore the pain that shakes through her temple at the contact; there's no way in Hell she'd pass this up just because of a punch to the nose.
When the arousal finally overpowers the pain, Jane finds herself against the door and on the ends of her toes, arms wrapped around the head that nestles into her neck. "God, Maura." She rasps, no longer able to control herself when she feels lips sucking on the sensitive skin. Her hands try and grasp everything at once. She snakes a hand around Maura's waist as the other rakes up her fitting dress. When the supple feel of her skin ends and Jane finds lace between her fingers, her mind shatters, bringing the face up to meet hers. "Not here."
"Where?" Maura pants, lips swollen and wet.
Jane doesn't even respond. She just takes the hand around her neck and drags the body attached to it up the stairs. When she's run into the bedroom and ready to pull Maura down, what she feels next catches her completely off guard. Jane feels a strong grip on her shoulders turn her around and push her onto the bed. Maura steps out of her heels and slowly settles herself on the mattress, crawling on her hands and knees towards her.
Jane brushes the dark curls away from her face as she approaches, doing her best to commit the image of Maura slinking on all fours into her memory. But when she feels those same hands sneaking up the leg of her pants and unbuckle her belt, the memory fades, and her eyes flutter at the simple pleasure of Maura's touch.
When she's been wiggled her out of everything below the waist and finally ready for whatever is in store for the rest of the night, the lack of contact she feels forces her to open her eyes. Jane looks up to find Maura frozen, shock stilling every muscle in her face as a hand covers an open mouth. It's only when she follows the gaze does she realize the look is out of guilt.
Her knees were still pretty bad.
"I'm.. I'm sorry." Maura says. She makes a move to put a hand over the knee but stops.
Libido higher than ever, Jane does her best to not explode at the misplaced apology. "Maura, it's okay." She rubs her knees to prove that the scrapes no longer hurt; that's it's just a reminder of their misfortune on Christmas Eve. She tries to heave herself forward but is stopped with a strong hand.
"No," the woman says, shutting her eyes briefly. Maura then blinks, looking at Jane with a passion full of more nurture than desire. She pushes her down on the bed, both legs straddling her hips. "Just..." She continues to button down Jane's blouse. "Just let me show you tonight. How much I love you." She dips her head for another kiss. It's soft and slow and teasing and–
The word rings pleasure in her ears. Though not one for profanity, Maura's one to use it in the bedroom on ocassion. But to be truthful, she likes it even more when she's the one to elicit such a response. The hunger in her veins guides her actions with bravery.
Maura teases lightly, dancing her fingers past and around Jane's breast. It isn't until her lips envelop the nipple does Jane take the fingers placed alongside her jaw into her own mouth, the vibrations of her moan sending a jolt straight down Maura's core. She rises from her bent posture at the arousal flooding down between her legs and cranes her neck forward. "Did you know," she says quietly, pulling the fingers out from Jane's mouth as she ghosts them over and down her body. She hides her surprise at the lack of hair when she ventures down lower, immediately changing the direction of her thought, "how much more sensitive the skin can be without hair?" She rests them on the inner thigh, feeling the bone from the width of the woman's spread beneath her.
"I don't have the time to maintain," Jane breathes, her voice dry as she strokes closer to her center, "Waxing is–" She stops when Maura moves her fingers.
"The labia majora is often sensitive, and when touched the right way.." She glides the tips of her fingers over the area and when Jane grunts, the part of Maura that wants so badly to appease bolts into action. The sound queues her as she slides her fingers between the wet folds quickly, "it can induce such pleasure." The exhale of frustration turns into a billowing moan, the slight whimper of Maura's name rolling after an incoherent plea. She can a feel the hips beneath her own begin to roll into a mild rhythm.
Bare and open before her, Maura sees a beauty she's never noticed before - one that glows despite the lack of light. Yet as poetic this sight is, it's undoubtedly one of the most arousing images in her mind. Maura hides her smirk at what she's reduced Jane to, but when she blinks, she also finds herself hiding tears. For Jane to let every wall down, to be this vulnerable and to need like this is an honour beyond words. To Maura, it's a privilege greater than any title in her career.
A privilege she never thought she'd get.
"Mm, Maur?" She's pulled away from her thoughts, the hands that once caresssed now still on Jane's hips. "Is there something wrong?"
Maura pauses for a moment and makes the choice to answer it truthfully. "No, nothing's wrong. You just fascinate me."
"I do?" Jane says, lolling her head from one side to the next, mind already in a state of euphoria. "How?"
"Well," Maura begins, trailing her hand up to Jane's chest, "your melanocytic nevus is quite fascinating."
The words don't register. "My melotonic what?"
"Melanocytic nevus." She corrects. "Your mole. I don't think I've ever seen one so convieniently placed." She traces around it, causing the skin to rise from the semblance of her touch. "But to be fair, your entire existence fascinates me." Maura states, slowly dragging her hand down. "Your form," her fingers trace the defined edges of her abdomen, "your flaws," they then ghost over Jane's scar, "your feminity.." she stops just at the hollow of her hips. "Do you know where the word clitoris orignates from, Jane?"
The woman beneath her touch trembles. "N-no."
"In the Greek language, it means divine, and I assume that regards the feeling one gets from stimulation of the clitoris. I can show you, if you'd like."
All Jane does has to do is nod, to show Maura that she trusts her entirely with the temple she's stripped bare. And when Jane does - when that tilt of her head is distinct from the endless lolls - she wastes no time. Maura dips two fingers at her entrace, thumb tracing around the sensitive nub above. "Oh," Jane gasps, head stilled to the left, finally shying away the immediate pleasure. A muscle clenches on path of her neck and Maura can't help but trace with her tongue. She follows it up to where the edges of Jane's jaw blend seamlessly and to her mouth. When she gets the head to finally turn up she pushes gently for her tongue to be let in. Granted the access, Maura times the entrance of her fingers along with her tongue, swallowing Jane's moans.
Jane sinks her head into the pillow and pulls away from their kiss. "Maura," She pants, the surprise clearly evident. She tries to hold her onto her ill temper but quickly lets go of it when Maura slips a third finger inside. "Jesus, fu–"
"I'm only trying to make you reach your climax." Maura teases and flicks her thumb against the swollen nub.
"Oh my God, why do you use those big words... stop.." Jane rasps, "stop it."
She draws her fingers out to their very edge and presses her thumb flat against Jane's clitoris. Her question is answered even beofre she can ask it. "You want me to stop?"
"Yes," Jane moans, "I, I mean, no. No, don't stop." She languidly wraps and arm around Maura's neck and pulls her in closer, the kiss she gives causing Maura to lose strength in her knees. They give out and her body falls flat against Jane's, the fabric of her dress so thin that she can feel her own nipples graze against taut ones.
Their body contact elicits a moan out of them both, and as Jane wraps her legs around what she can of Maura, the breath in her ear is what really causes her to come undone. "Fuck, Maura." The way she says it is enough to send her off the edge. Maura loosens her body from Jane's tight grip, only rising to mount and straddle a thigh between her legs. Her dress rises up and over to her hips at the obscure position. She then motions to dip her fingers back inside, quickly redirecting their path as she drags them up between Jane's folds and then to her mouth. Maura rests her fingers on the woman's lips, coating her in her own arousal before finally allowing Jane to take them in. A thumb brushes at the hollow of her cheeks as her fingers are drawn inside. Jane pushes them out only to take the middle back into her mouth.
Her hips roll hard against Jane's thigh when she feels a tongue move beneath it, but it's only when she pulls her finger out does she feel the teeth grazing against her bone. Maura wastes no time and dips them back inside the woman's warm entrance. Her attempt to set a rhythm fails, and as she finds herself grinding against Jane's thigh pumping two fingers in and out relentlessly, it's the look on that face that seals it.
Jane writhes unbatingly against her hand, one hand wrapped tightly around Maura's arm as the other is white from its grip on the sheets. Her lips, that often purse with disapproval now gape open, the lower half trembling with the endless pleasure. But it's her eyes – the way they look into Maura half open, the colour darkening to the shade of her hair, the small, yet noticable plea hidden beneath all the lust to finally bring her there.
Maura obliges the request with her thumb, pressing it hard and as rhymthic as she can against Jane's swollen nub as she reaches her own climax. So sudden and so intense, it causes Jane to jerk upright and push Maura over. Neither acknowledge the abrupt switch of their positions as both scramble and attempt continue their broken rhythm. Jane pins Maura against the bed as her leg straddles a thigh. Maura's mind nearly blacks out when she feels the bare flesh rub against her leg, the wetness beneath spreading onto her. Jane then rocks her hips up, bringing a knee to push in between Maura's legs. She then glides down only to grind back up, her pace becoming erratic at the overwhelming pleasure.
"Oh... Jane..." Maura manages to say between her moans and gasps.
The two words set Jane off and she grinds, harder, against Maura, her breath sucking in the moans as their heads rest against one another. Maura tries her best to express that she's near, that she's about to come and even if she tried, she wouldn't be able to wait for Jane. And when nothing but hot air seeps through the small spaces of her teeth, she tries another approach. Her lips rise up to meet Janes, the sudden contact eliciting a moan from the woman. It sends waves of vibrations down Maura's core and she moans, too. Then Jane pulls back, slower, and thrusts her knee hard between Maura's legs and her own wet center against Maura's thigh.
Both find themselves trembling at the contact – at the pleasure painfully coursing through every nerve in their bodies, at the infinite wetness between their legs, at the moans they mute and swallow.
Jane pulls away from their kiss, eyes still closed. She opens them to find Maura beneath her, looking more unkempt, yet more beautiful than ever. Jane hates how she can do that. She steals one last kiss on those swollen lips before finally relenting and laying next to Maura.
"I told you that I wanted to show you tonight." Maura says, still a little breathless.
"Another thing about love. It's very hard to control."
A sound from downstairs startles them both, throwing away the efforts of the last few minutes to regulate their pulses. "It's just Bass. Don't worry." Maura reassures, but the grip she has on her hand tells her otherwise. Without a word Jane rises from the bed and dashes across the bedroom, making her way into the closet.
"Jane?" Maura sits up at the sight, eyebrow rising with suspicion as she exits with a bat in hand. "What are you doing?"
She swings the handle up, stopping the motion as the head of the bat falls into her other hand. "Being the guy."
The other woman is caught off guard. "...What?"
"I told you," Jane shrugs, "that I'd be the guy. Remember?" Though over a year has passed, the conversation still rings familiarity to them both.
"You're going to be the guy, like that?" Maura's eyes begin to rake over her naked form with a sense of incrudelity. It's only when they rise back up to meet Jane's does it fade, praise replacing it.
She shrugs again.
"That's one count of decent exposure, detective." Maura quips, rising from her seated position and making her way to the bathroom.
"I think you mean to say indecent."
The retreating form stops, slowly turning around to reveal the face of thought that Jane can't help but love. "No," Maura shakes her head. She then casts another glance over Jane's body. "I meant decent."
Yes. This is the end. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I have five months of vacation, so keep a look out for more of my stories! Have a lovely day, wherever you may be!