A/N: inspired by a scene in this week's incoming epsiode, so it could be considered slightly spoilerish, and for a smutty fanfic, it's rather... well, I behaved quite well. hope you'll like it and will grant me a review, doesn't matter if it will be short, just do it if you liked it, or even if you didn't!

The real deal

She walked right into the hotel room, without bothering to ask for permission first- there was no need to, after all, she was supposed to be part of the team who was looking after Erika Flynn – with her eyes focused on the pieces of paper in her hands, the last piece of evidence need to solve the murder and frame the man Jane and the "Black Widow"/Former queen of matchmaking had decided was guilty.

"Jane, I think you'll find interesting finding out that…." She stopped in the bedroom, and immediately froze on the spot, for she couldn't believe she was actually seen what she was witnessing: Flynn's hands on Jane's chest, the man's eyes closed, and his head slightly turned, like to give a woman better access-access to his lips.

The two parted immediately, Jane kept looking at the floor, clearly uneasy what was happening, or almost did, while Mrs. Flynn simply grinned evilly, maliciously and yes, even with a note of triumph, towering over Lisbon with her height, with her stiletto heels and her beauty, security and power. For the woman used to be good at what she did, and had red Lisbon all over, clearly understanding that she was attracted to the consultant. Having him was a victory against both her opponents, the cop and the man who claimed to be still married.

"Oh" was the only thing that left her mouth for a while, Lisbon's only focus her old, plain loafers, not the beautiful black and stylish stilettos Erika wore every day. The cop really did felt like pacing, but couldn't, wasn't going to fall so low, not in front of Erika, for she knew the woman wanted to beat her, and because of Jane, for admitting her attraction to him would destroy their relationship, as colleagues and as friends, and she couldn't allow to lose him, not yet. "Uh, Sorry. Anyway, I'll leave the papers here. Let me know what you think." she smiled of a forced smile and, before he could stop her, she left the room, walking calmly, placid even, showing no trace of emotion if nit the embarrassment of having caught a couple in a moment of intimacy of some kind, Jane still motionless and speechless in the room.

As closed the door with a sounding thund, and as soon as she was out, she finally allowed nausea to take over, feeling the bile rising in her throat; she kept an hand on her mouth to make sure nothing bad would happen, and then, only then, she left out the traitorous tears, sobbing while she run towards her room, the only place she knew she was going to be safe. Because Teresa Lisbon needed to lick her wounds in private, mourning the love of a man she never had to begin with, the love she felt for a man who had sworn blood and vengeance to the ghost of his long-lost beloved wife, a wife who had been as beautiful and angelic in her life, as gorgeous and icy Mrs. Flynn was. And Teresa Lisbon wasn't angelic, wasn't beautifully icy with stylish clothes. Teresa Lisbon was a cop, maybe not any longer so on the book as she used to be, but still a cop, and a tomboy, who dressed with no mention of style, but just considering her paycheck.

She definitely wasn't Patrick Jane's kind of woman. She should just stop thinking about him, for all he was going to cause her was heartache, and the kiss he had shared, or almost shared, she didn't know and she didn't want to know, with Erika Flynn had been already too much for her, causing the woman to go through hell and back every day she repeated the scene in her mind.

Yes, she should have considered the idea of stop thinking about Patrick Jane.


As soon as she had reached her room, she changed into her jersey on autopilot, and then, only then, like an emotionless and empty robot, she collapsed on the bed, crying herself to exhaustion, trying to force herself to stop thinking about Jane. Only, she couldn't; every time she tried to, here he was, invading her mind and fantasies, and everything she could see, was his smile, so beautiful and full of hope at times, and the way he looked with his immaculate 3 pieces, and… why couldn't she stop thinking about that damn party at the CBI, over two years prior, and his tuxedo?

She shut her eyes closed, and, unwillingly, an image of him came there full force in the front of her mind; Jane, dancing with her, holding her in his arms. She had thought about that dance for a long time, and every time she did, a fantasy and not reality made itself known; she didn't see them parting way, but, often, if not always, she imagined their bodies pressed together, one against the other, and in her mind, in her fantasy, she could feel his erection, huge and demanding, pressed against her body, she could feel Jane biting her lobe, kissing open-mouthed her neck and her chin, letting her know without words what he wanted from her, and that he wasn't going to take no as an answer. And, like all those times she thought about Jane screwing her senseless, her vibrator magically found its way in her hand.

The toy come to life as soon as she turned it on, and she looked at the tip of the fake penis with fascination and a mix of reverence, wondering if that was how Jane looked like without any clothes on; she immediately pushed the thought away, for she was scared that Erika Flynn was going to discover that by herself.

She gently rubbed it over her leg, starting with the calf, enjoying the stimulation, feeling like someone was tickling her with soft fingers, like a lover's caress; the sensation only progressed as she moved further, and got there, to her throbbing center, wet with desire for a man who wouldn't satisfy her, couldn't.

She parted her legs furthermore, as much as she could, and tilted her hips at the same time to get as much as the toy as she could; two fingers from her free hand helped her pout in the stimulation, opening her labia for the toy to enter, and putting a little pressure on the bundle of nerves as the toy entered into her slowly, very slowly, until, after a couple of minutes of in and out, it finally was where she wanted it to be, inside her to the hill, filling her in a way that she could only definite as perfect.

She moaned, the tip of her tongue coming out to lick her full, luscious lips, and she eased the toy out of her, until only the tip remained in her channel; an image of Jane, pleasuring her with his fingers , possessed her, and she picked up speed, gliding and thrusting with more force every time the fake cock left her body just to take her, claim her again and again. She wasn't any longer concentrating on reality, reality just wasn't there, didn't matter any longer, it was just her, the Jane in her mind, and the silly piece of plastic in her hands, doing marvelous and sinfully erotic things to her.

She firmly closed her eyes, and slowly she slid along the bed, until she wasn't any longer sat but was lying down on the sheets; she closed her eyes as her head hit the pillow, her hips lifted on their own volition, meeting each of her own strokes- the stokes of her silly piece of plastic, the fake Jane of her dreams. She moved her free thumb to her clit, moving over it again and again, rubbing against it with the toy as well, until it was just too much, and the toy and the fantasy-Jane, the one she was picturing in her mind, did just the same: made her orgasm, her body stilling because of the intense sensation, eyes snapping open as only a word left her trembling lips, his name, Jane, huskily cried in an a silent cry of pleasure and ecstasy.

And then, still panting, coming down from such an incredible height, she saw him, standing still at the feet of the bed, rigid, eyes wide open, dilated pupils, his heartbeat so strong she could see from the distance his pulse point on his neck, he was sweating, and she could tell from his tenting pants he had looked at her the whole time, and had enjoyed it. For he was hard, hard an huge.

But it didn't matter, because, just minutes before, he had been kissing another one. She couldn't forget it, couldn't forgive him. Or… why was he there? And why had he looked? She wanted to know, and yet, at the same time, she didn't, for she didn't just lusted after Patrick Jane. No, it was far more worse: she loved him, and craved him, all of him, didn't matter how broken he was, didn't matter if the only thing he was willingly to offer was his friendship, so be it. She wanted him to be happy, right? Then, it wasn't supposed to mean so much whom he found happiness with, even if… even if he could so much better than a manipulative murderer.

She put back the jersey right in place, trying to look as much casual and cool as she couldn't, but she was finding it very hard, with Jane still looking at her with those azure, huge eyes and in complete silence. He was throwing off balance- which wasn't such a novelty – but being caught red-handed…

"Jane" she simply said, closing her eyes and gulping down a mouthful of saliva, sitting on the bed at crossed legs facing him, hoping in some kind of response from the man. And a response he gave her, only, not like she thought.

In a second, he was on her, and Lisbon was finding herself again lying on the bed, but this time, it was Jane's strong and welcome and hot weight on her pinning her down; his lips were murderous on her won, taking and claiming, devouring her, his erection hard and huge against her abdomen, while his hands, scared by the possibility of rejection, pinned her wrists upon her head, using strength enough to make her understand he meant business but not enough to restrain her in case she wasn't interested.

He nuzzled affectionately her neck, still kissing her, without allowing his lips to move away from the long awaited prey; when he spoke, he did with such a tenderness, and at the same time, fear, she couldn't help but cry a tear. "You think I was going to allow her to be with me, or even… just kiss me? Oh, Teresa, Teresa, Teresa, my silly Teresa… a man doesn't wait over 8 years to break his celibacy to do so with the first murderer…" a lazy smiled graced his features, and she couldn't help but laugh a little.

He lifted his face, again his lips against Lisbon's, this time, though, it was a slow encounter, like they were finally getting to know each other, like they were comfortable and in peace, not any longer in such a rush, it was something that wasn't merely speaking of passion, desire and lust, but of emotions as well. For the first time in a long while, Lisbon felt like she was truly connecting with someone, like she was finally being loved, in the truest sense of the word.

"Jane, I…" he had called her by her given name, and on his lips, the sound had been like liquid ambrosia, but still, she couldn't avoid calling him "Jane". The man, though, didn't get irritated by that, he simply smiled, nuzzling her skin once again, shaking his head while a single finger gently skimmed her whole body, suddenly and mysteriously naked.

"You know, honey, I just wanted to talk with you, reassure you that I didn't want to have anything to do with that awful woman because I needed someone to trust and I just knew the gal … but you weren't answering, and when I picked up the lock, I saw…. This. This is the most erotic thing I had ever seen, and when I heard you calling my name while coming, all my good intentions left."

He lowered, grinning against her ivory skin, the zip of his trousers, and freed his throbbing member, his hard cock glistening with luminescent drops of pre-cum on his tip; she lowered her eyes to that particular and prominent part of his anatomy, and smiled, giving a glance to her toy, nothing in comparison to the real deal right before her eyes. She grinned, and so did he. "Does Agent Lisbon like what she sees?"

In response, she lifted her hips, allowing them to touch his body, that jerked because of the close contact; it was her time to grin in answer. "Did I find something that Mr. Jane likes?" she asked while she took control of the situation, kissing him on the lips and on the chin, feeling the subtle and rough stubble scratching her, marking her with slight, red marks; she unbuttoned, slowly and without any impatience, his vests and his shirt, freeing the last from the trousers, and without actually removing both articles of clothes, she started to fond his abdomens, the skin at his back, feeling his heat radiating from the strong and muscular body, kissed by the rays of the Californian sun.

He grunted, keeping his eyes and mouth shout as she kept heavenly torturing him, and while biting his lobe, she spoke in a low, huskily voice. "Yes, I definitely found something that Mr. Jane likes." And with so, she took possession of his member, milking it up and down few times, feeling the veins pulsating beneath her fingertips, the flesh getting harder and bigger in her hand.

"Sweetheart, please… that's not how I want…. to make love to you" She stopped in her track hearing him saying so, she wasn't expecting that choice of words, for Jane still considered himself a married man, and everybody was aware of the love and devotion he had always felt for his late wife; Lisbon released his flesh, and got back into a sitting position, putting some distance between them, and suddenly, she felt exposed, uneasy in her state of undress, almost ashamed of it.

Her eyes fell on the wedding band, still shining on his left ring finger as visible as ever, manifest to the fact he didn't know what he was doing, that he probably didn't mean what he had told her, that it had all been a game for him, another chance at manipulating one of his favorite pawns, but a pawn nevertheless; he immediately understood her reasoning, and decided to convince her it wasn't all a game; he reached for her, cupping her face with his hands, lifting her chin to force eye-contact so that she could hear him out and see the honesty behind his words and understand him.

"That's not what you think, love. I've been obsessed with you for a long time, but I didn't know that you… but now, I can't deny you myself any longer, if we both want it… maybe…maybe…" he gasped for air, suddenly at loss, almost in tears for this heartbreaking confession; she saw and felt the sincerity, and cupped his face with her hands, erasing the tears with her soft and warm thumbs, suddenly not giving a damn any longer about the ring on his finger. "It's just… I need to remember that it's my fault as well, that he'll… somehow pay and that… that I could lose you all in an heartbeat." She simply nodded, and joined him in his tears, while he resumed kissing her with as much as fervor as the first kiss they had shared mere minutes before, his flesh coming back to life, blood again hardening his length. "This is good, this is right…. I want to be happy. Will you be happy with me?"

She couldn't say no to this, to him; his sweet, sinful ministrations of his lips and hands on her painfully aroused body were just an added bonus. Out of breath, moaning while he caressed her skin with strong and callous hands and his lips kept claiming her again and again with soft bites, she simply nodded her approval. Like Jane himself, she couldn't deny him herself, body and soul, not if it was what both wanted, as far as they were willingly to keep it up.

"Then… allow me to make you happy, Teresa." He bit her lobe one last time, grinning in a way that almost scared her, a memory of all the troubles he always caused at work, but, after he got naked and they parted with one last lingering peck on the lips, she got an idea of what the man had in store for her; she grinned in appreciation as he sat on the cold floor, his hands hot on her calves while he rubbed her feet warming them up; he slowly made her slide on the bed, so that her hot core wet for him was at level with his mouth, so, so dangerously close to him she could feel his hot breath over there. "Hey there, hello. Nice to finally meet, I've been dying to get to know you". He chuckled.

He licked her labia, slowly, without stopping eye-contact, and kissed them like he were to kiss her mouth, sucking the clitoris in his mouth, careful to not use any teeth, well aware of how sensitive she was, especially after an orgasm, and only later he finally thrust his tongue inside, fucking her lazily fist, and harder and harder, picking up speed as he proceeded with his love-making. Few minutes, and she came, crying out her pleasure with eyes wide open and his hair in her hands, her inner walls contracting around his tongue, sweet honey covering his taste buds.

He helped Lisbon out to come back to the headboard while she was still panting, her body a sack of potatoes with no energy or want left, then he joined her on the bed, leaning on his side facing her. "That good, uh?" he cockily asked her with smug arrogance, eyes shining in happiness and desire. She lost herself in them for a second, then, couldn't help but laugh and then kiss him, as sweetly as possible, conjuring all her emotions in that single kiss. "Oh, C'mon, don't thank me yet! That was just foreplay!"

"Uhm, I wonder what the real deal will feel like…" her lips found again the skin of his chin, and her hand his still impressive erection, spanning his penis and milking it like she had done before; he was hard and huge, so hard and huge Lisbon thought he probably was in pain.

"Like this…" he huskily whispered, and took her by surprise once again; Lisbon had never though Jane capable of tackling someone, but he did just that, and in a matter of seconds, if not less, she found herself gasping as he had took her for the hips and "forced" her to straddle him, her legs open for his intrusion while he entered her to the hilt at first thrust.

She felt Jane going rigid, and wondered if, maybe, he wasn't regretting it, or if maybe it had been so long since last time he wasn't sure or capable of already performing; her hand found again his face, and she caressed him, looking into his eyes, ready to postpone their mating ritual, but he took her for the wrist and shook his head, no. "Just… I need a minute, ok? It's been… a while."

She nodded, tears forming into her eyes as she remembered what he had told her before when he come into the room: Jane hadn't been with anyone since his wife. It had been over 8 years, and he choose her. It was… it was some kind of precious gift, like… she smiled at the idea that it was a bit like he had choose her to lost his virginity- a thing he had done, in a certain sense.

She needed to help him out.

She ran her hands through her hairs, and then she run them over her whole body, applying special attention to her breasts; she pinched the nipples and played with them until they were hard pecks, and then palmed her whole breasts, keeping torturing them in a sinfully erotic way; she couldn't help but moan, and she kept looking at Jane, lost in his eyes, Jane, still rigid under her, who was looking at her, and it was the most erotic thing she had ever witnessed, so erotic and arousing she almost come there and there.

While she bit her lips, her hands traveled south, and she found herself doing the same things Jane had witnessed her doing before, only, instead of a silly piece of plastic, she was using her won fingers; one hand parted her lips, while other two fingers entered her to the hilt, while she kept pressing on her aroused clitoris with the heel of her hand. She thrust inside and out few times, but when she come, it was because of the combined sensation of his hard cock inside her, her fingers keeping touching it, and her fingers moving in her body.

When her muscles contracted around his unmoving cock and her fingers, she came crying out his name, and only then he started to move. Lisbon was still doing the majority of the job, keeping pleasuring herself and meeting him thrust for thrust at the same time; her lips were parted in a silent "O", broken, once in a while, by a litany of "Oh", "Ah" and "Mmmmm…" that kept increasing in lieu of her appreciation.

He put his hands under her ass, and helped her keeping the rhythm; he could feel she was close, could feel her inner muscles on the verge of milking his member, begging for his release; he sat slightly, appreciating even more her breasts bouncing and rubbed in his face, and when he felt himself there, the sensation of taking Lisbon intensified by his penis feeling her fingers every time he left her heat just to come back to take her, he buried his face just there, taking a nipple in his mouth and sucking it like he was a baby in desperate need of milk: it was too much, it had been too long, and Jane came in her, his liquid heat, his very essence, triggering another orgasm for Lisbon, another orgasm that made nothing if not intensifying his own release.

They collapsed one on top of the other, both gasping for air, and only when they had been both returned from their incredible height they finally allowed themselves to part, Lisbon's head resting on his chest; she kissed him there, drawing imaginary figures on his toned skin, and when he covered them with a blanket, he tenderly kissed the top of her head, keeping her even closer, tightening the grip around her waist, like she was some kind of life-line.

They fell asleep fast, and he slept, for hours and hours, for regret and guilt never surfaced, like he had feared when he had first touched that beautiful woman in his arms.

His last thought wasn't, like often in the past, for Red John, but for the kisses he was going to use to wake her up in the morning.