Aaaah. See, I'm not dead, I was just pretending.

Sadly, the premise for this story is a real conversation that occurred between my friend Mikey and his mother, regarding two children in one of her classes... deary, deary me.

Dedicated to three of my favourite people:

1. Dev: Editor and fanfic writer extraordinaire. Also one hell of a bff.
2. goldflecks: Not only one of the greatest writers in ficdom, also one of my favourite people in the ficcy world 3. Raedmagdon: My accomplice in so many things. No only will she squee like a little girl when she realises I posted her some Rizzles, she make make my day by dropping her one 'ship per ship rule and write me some Miranda/Shep(F) smut. Feel free to bug her until she does so.

Rated: X. NSFW.

Rizzoli & Isles is the property of TNT, based on original characters by Tess Gerritsen.

Jane sipped the wine in her hand and tried with some difficulty not to put it down in some discreet place and make a run for it.

She didn't like functions like this. Scratch that: she positively loathed functions like this and, what was worse, she was there voluntarily. She was voluntarily stuck in the garden of someone she didn't know, drinking wine she didn't really like and wondering where the fuck Maura had gotten to.

Maura. Ah, Dr Maura Isles — the inexplicable, unfathomable, undeniable force who was the Chief Medical Examiner for Massachusetts. And the sole reason that Jane was doing something this insipid on her day off. A Saturday afternoon, no less.

When Maura had asked her to be her plus-one, Jane had hunted very hard within herself to find the answer 'no'. Despite her brain throwing up about seven million very decent excuses, the word that fell from her lips was 'yes'. Or at least something approaching that answer.

So, now she was dressed in slightly-nicer-than-work clothes — pants and a nice blouse — on her Saturday off, instead of watching the Red Sox lose on television. But, then again, she wasn't knee-deep in criminals either. On balance, it could have been worse, but it could have been a lot better.

To add to her misery, Maura had somehow disappeared while Jane had been using the guest bathroom. Knowing exactly zero other people there left Jane loitering in a corner of the garden, praying no-one would take pity on her. She was feeling distinctly unsociable anyway. She'd spoken to a few of the guests earlier — while in the company of Maura, naturally — and not a single one of them was someone whom Jane would be interested in meeting again. Superficial, pointless and self-congratulatory were about the nicest terms she could come up with, and that was because she was feeling charitable.

The brunette sighed and took another sip of her drink.

Why was she there? She was there because she couldn't say no to Maura. And she couldn't say no to her best friend because…

Well, frankly, Jane couldn't really account for that. There were a few possibilities floating around her mind, but she was so incredibly good at stamping on those thoughts that they weren't even allowed to squeak.

Which left her exactly nowhere.

Jane's gaze dragged to the right, and she couldn't help but smile, hopefully not too obviously, at the sight before her.

Good Lord, Maura looked good in that skirt. The heels — while Jane liked to tease her about them — certainly did wonders for those calves, too. And that shirt — well, Maura did have the finest cleavage in Boston. So Jane smiled, and kept on doing so until she spotted the fact that Maura wasn't alone; then she was unable to stop her smile from faltering just a little bit.

"There you are," she said, as soon as the blonde was within earshot.

"Oh sorry, Jane. I didn't mean to leave you alone!"

The fact that Maura looked genuinely sorry meant that Jane forgave her instantly. "It's okay. Uh…" She looked at the two women who had trailed after the ME.

"Jane, this is Hannah Miles," Maura began formally, pointing to the immaculately coiffured and ridiculously fake-looking woman to her left, "and this is Amelia Hampstead."

Both women politely gestured their greetings to Jane, but she could see them looking her up and down, judging her, and assessing her as, well, inferior. It was in their eyes, and Detective Rizzoli could read them like a book. Her own lips pressed together, a little thinner as she struggled to maintain decorum.

"Their mother was friends with mine," Maura continued. "We spent time together as children."

Dr Isles was nothing if not precise, and Jane noted that she had assiduously avoided calling either of the women a friend.

"Pleased to meet you," she murmured, wondering how fast she could get out of the ensuing conversation, and preferably, the whole shebang.

"And how do you know Maura?" the thing named Hannah asked, with clear evidence of her lack of interest.

"We work together."

"Jane is a detective for Boston PD."

Jane practically beamed with pride at the warmth and matching sentiment in Maura's voice.

"Oh. My," Hannah's sister added, one eye quizzically raised. "What a life you must have."

"Something like that," she mumbled in reply. "Maura, could —"

"MOM! MOM! He TOOK my DRINK!"

The relative calm was suddenly broken by the unmistakably high-pitched screaming of a child. Watching the small girl, whom Jane estimated was roughly ten years old, stalk up angrily, she tried not to laugh.

"Jenna! Keep your voice down." The female person otherwise known as Amelia pursed her lips, replying to her daughter in a voice which had words but no real sentiment. Jane knew immediately that this child was a spoiled brat.

"But MOM. He TOOK my DRINK!"

"Now Jenna, I'm sure Jameson didn't mean to."

Jane froze. Suddenly the world went a little fuzzy as her brain caught up with her ears and she shook her head in disbelief.

"Did you say Jameson?" she cut in.

Mid-negotiation with her daughter, Amelia turned back to the detective. "Yes, Jameson. What —"

"And Jemma?"

Amelia stood up stoutly. "Those are my children. Why do you ask, detective?"

The final word was most pointed and Jane took a deep breath. "Just… they're just very interesting names. Fascinating. Family names, are they?" She tried to catch Maura's eye, but the shorter blonde didn't seem to have blinked.

"Well, if you must know, my husband chose them. They're beautiful names."

"Yes, yes they are," Jane replied. She was so incredibly proud of the fact that she wasn't rolling on the floor laughing at that very moment, but no-one else seemed to have caught on. Desperate to move the conversation on before she lost control, she turned to Hannah. "And um, do you have children?"

"She has two. Duh!" the small, irritating mini-Amelia piped up completely uninvited. Jane curbed the urge to clip the child around the ear.

"Sasha and Grey," Hannah chimed in cheerily.

It was about then that Jane lost her edge on control. She managed to turn her laughing fit into a coughing fit, bending over and holding her sides in an effort to hide the fact that she was half-choking on laughter and half holding it in.

"Jane!"

She felt a warm hand on her back, and tried not to shiver. After a few moments, she collected herself and stood up, still coughing. "Sorry," she wheezed. "Drink, drink caught in my throat."

The fact that she hadn't taken a sip in at least five minutes was entirely beside the point.

"I'll get you some water," Maura said concernedly.

"Uh, I'm okay," Jane coughed again. "I'm… okay. Maybe… maybe we should head home." While it was also a poor excuse to get out of the party, she was not confident that she could remain straight-faced if she had to keep looking at Hannah and Amelia and poor, poor little Jenna.

"That's not a bad idea," Maura agreed. "I should check you out, make sure you're breathing normally. You may have swallowed some suspect water and, you know, the bacterial composition of Boston's water supply is just —"

"Maur," Jane smiled. "Not the time."

The blonde smiled back. "Mmm. Perhaps you're right."

It took them a few minutes to make their excuses, and a few more negotiating traffic, until they were very nearly halfway home when Maura finally spoke.

"So, what exactly happened back there?"

Jane bit her lip. "What do you mean?"

"You weren't choking, Jane. You were laughing. I know you well enough to tell the difference."

The brunette winced, annoyed that she'd been caught. "Um…"

"Well? I take you to a party and you nearly spat Chardonnay all over my friends."

Jane snorted. "One, it was Semillon. Two, there was no wine in my mouth. And, three, those are not your friends. You don't even like them."

"Why would you say that?"

"Because I know you well enough to tell the difference."

"Hmmph," Maura said. "Hoist on my own petard."

Wisely, Jane said nothing.

"So, are you going to explain yourself?"

"You're serious?"

"I usually am."

Jane cleared her throat. "You have no idea?"

"Clearly, I don't, or we wouldn't be having this conversation."

The detective shook her head as she manoeuvred her car into Maura's driveway. "Never mind."

"Never mind? You had a conniption at a garden party, Jane. That's hardly a 'never mind' situation!"

"A conniption?"

"A conniption. A fit, if you will. Some kind of seizure."

"It was a coughing fit."

"It was not a coughing fit," Maura said evenly as she got out of the car. "You were laughing. If you happened to choke on some saliva while trying to conceal that fact, it's hardly the issue. You, Jane Rizzoli, were laughing. And I want to know why."

"Why?"

"Yes, why?"

Jane groaned. "No, why do you want to know why? I promise, it's really nothing."

"I'm curious. Satisfy me."

There was something, something terribly warm and silky about the way those words slipped out of Maura's mouth and Jane had to stop herself from having another coughing fit. The tremor that went through her body was inexplicable. She followed the blonde inside. Thankfully, there was every sign that Jane's mother was nowhere around.

Jane made her way to the kitchen and helped herself to a glass of water, with every intention of using it as a distraction from the current conversation. She knew she didn't have much chance: she was up against Dr Isles, after all.

It didn't take long. Jane turned from the sink to find Maura standing by the breakfast bar, arms folded with an expectant look on her face.

"Well?"

"Maur, let it go."

"What if I don't want to let it go?" The blonde sighed and changed her posture, arms becoming more firmly crossed. Jane tried to ignore the way it accentuated that perfect cleavage.

"What if I ask you to?"

Maura frowned and uncrossed her arms. "Well, if you asked…"

Jane sighed. "The names."

"I'm sorry?" At the very least, Jane enjoyed that she could throw the shorter woman off her game a little.

"Did you not notice the names of your, er, friends' children?"

She watched Maura's brow furrow. "Well, they were… names."

"Yup, just names."

"Jane!"

She chuckled. "Would it help if I said them in one go?"

"Jenna and Jameson, Sasha and Grey," Maura said, chewing her bottom lip. "I remember. In fact, I have a near-perfect memory. "

"And they mean nothing to you?"

Maura shook her head.

"Uh, maybe we should just say that I think they're hilarious names and leave it at that."

The look on Maura's face told Jane that it wasn't going to happen, but in the insane hope she could get out of the rest of this conversation, she kept quiet. Eventually, there was a very quiet, "Jane."

"Look, there are, uh, a few famous people with those names."

"There are?"

"Yes. Jenna Jameson and Sasha Grey."

Maura's brow furrowed again. "They're famous?"

Jane cleared her throat again. "In certain circles. Yes." She took a sip of water. "Can we leave it now?"

There was another snort of derision. "Hardly. Just spit it out."

"They're…" Jane looked desperately for a way out of just saying it, and finally she decided that ending the conversation might just end the torture. "They're porn stars."

There was a startled silence and then a very slow raise of an immaculately plucked eyebrow. "They're WHAT?"

"Jenna Jameson and Sasha Grey are porn stars. Your friends' husbands named their kids after their favourite… actresses."

"Oh my God."

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh my God." It appeared that Maura was stuck on a particular part of her speech pattern.

Jane chuckled. "Do you see why I couldn't not laugh?"

"Oh God, do they know?" Maura put her hand over her mouth.

"I'm going out on a limb here and thinking maybe not." Jane drained her glass. "I'm fairly sure divorce proceedings would ensue. It's a long con, if nothing else."

"A what?"

"The long con. A scam that takes forever to play out. After all, they named four kids over many years."

Maura laughed. "I see what you mean. Oh my God. Poor Hannah and Amelia."

"Yeah."

There was a silence, and Jane was just about to fill it when she was cut off. "Uh, how did you know who they were?"

Jane felt a flush sliding up her face. "Well, you know, they're famous."

"They can't be that famous, I've never heard of them."

"Maura, you didn't know who Kim Kardashian was till I told you."

The blonde made an exasperated noise. "Oh, come on. She's not famous for doing anything. She's famous for nothing. That doesn't count!"

"Yeah… well. You're not really tuned in to the zeitgeist, are you now?"

"I'm not tuned in to the pornography zeitgeist, that's for sure," Maura countered, far too quickly for Jane's liking. The brunette responded by blushing furiously and turning away.

"I'm not…"

"You watch pornography, Jane. It's perfectly average, you know."

She turned back immediately. "I do not!"

With a roll of the eyes, Maura took a step towards her best friend. "It's okay, Jane. It really is very normal. Although I suspect that just meeting a nice gentleman would be slightly healthier. You don't have to be embarrassed. I too have seen a por—"

"I. Do. Not. Watch. Porn," Jane ground out through her teeth. "And I certainly don't watch anything with Jenna Jameson or Sasha Grey."

"What particular sub-section of pornography do they act in?"

The sheer curiosity in Maura's voice made Jane redden further. "I don't know! We are NOT having this conversation!"

"No, I mean, there are many different types. I know that BDSM is very common, and of course there are all the various sub-sector fetishes."

To cut the blonde off from any further musing, Jane snapped back, "I don't know, Maura. They just do straight porn, okay? Normal, straight, run-of-the-mill porn."

"Oh, so, just men and women then?"

"What? I don't know!" Jane shook her head. She really couldn't believe this conversation was happening, but the fact that she couldn't seem to get out of it was even worse. It was like realising that the light at the end of the tunnel was an oncoming train, and you suddenly found your shoelaces tied to the rail.

"Because girl-on-girl pornography is quite common these days."

Jane wished she had a better poker face. She wished — God, she wished! — that the small noise which had just slipped out of her mouth hadn't. She wished that Maura hadn't already thrown her so far off her game that, when the statement came, she'd been in full control of her faculties.

But she hadn't been. And the noise had slipped out. And ever-attentive Maura did not miss it.

"Jane? Do they do girl-on-girl porn?"

"I have no idea," she groaned, although it was more of a squeak. "I really, really have no idea."

There was a decent amount of silence, and for a blessed moment Jane truly believed she'd come out the other side of the conversation relatively unscathed.

"But you have watched that kind of porn, haven't you?" Maura's question was quiet, quieter than the rest of the conversation, and Jane nearly fell over.

"I… No! Maura! I told you I don't watch porn."

Another silence, and then, "Oh. What a pity."

Jane let out a gush of air. Then she stopped for a moment. "What?"

The blonde waved her hands around expressively. "It's a pity. I'd be curious."

"You'd be what?"

"Curious. Naturally, Jane, I'd be curious. I mean, I theoretically understand the mechanics of two women making love but I've never actually seen it. I'd be interested is all."

Jane felt herself choking on her own saliva again. This time she couldn't stop herself and, as the burning in her trachea set in, she bent over, coughing up what felt like her lungs.

For the second time that day, she felt Maura's warm hand on her back.

By the time her coughing had settled, Jane wasn't sure that she was ready to stand back up. She wasn't sure she was ready to confront the myriad of confusing emotions which were flowing through her.

Maura was curious about lesbian sex?

Goddammit.

This was not happening. This shit was not happening. Maura was as straight as an arrow and shot true. Jane… Jane was also straight. Completely straight, utterly straight and not at all curious about lesbian sex and really, really, honestly had never thought about how Maura would look without her blouse on.

Jane straightened up and narrowly missed head-butting the other woman on the nose. She was so close, standing right next to her, and the whiff of Maura's delicious scent — raspberry and vanilla, and something entirely specific to Dr Isles — floated past her.

Their eyes met. And Jane had to swallow to avoid choking on her spit again. "You're… you're cu—" She couldn't finish her sentence.

They were so close. Their bodies were touching, an arm here, breast brushing breast. Jane couldn't speak. Her eyes were pulled to the incredibly deep green eyes of her best friend and she was mesmerised.

And suddenly everything coalesced. All the touches, the glances, the meaningful comments became one. All the moments of the last few years — the bullets, the fear, the retched shaking in the middle of the night — boiled down to one pin-point moment, clarified like a diamond in full sunlight.

And their lips connected.

Mouth on mouth, a kiss that had been so long coming and yet was a complete surprise. Jane moaned once in surprise, and then again when Maura took advantage and deepened the kiss. Somehow, her hand found its way into honey blonde locks. Her other hand found soft skin over firm muscle at the doctor's hip.

Maura's tongue — Oh God, it was on her lips and then…

And then there was nothing in Jane's head. There was just the taste and the feel and the utter amazing sensation that was kissing Maura Isles.

When the incredibly beautiful woman in her arms moaned, she couldn't help herself. Her hands itched, and then inched up under the loose fabric of the doctor's blouse. When her fingertips met soft, soft skin, she tried not to cry out at the sensation.

The kiss went on. And on. And on.

When they broke for air, Jane found her lips hunting for Maura's, capturing them hungrily, resparking the contact. She was a fraction too late, though, and the shorter woman had already taken the initiative.

This wasn't curiousity. This wasn't Maura wanting to explore. This was white hot, lightning up and down nerve endings, the single most erotic experience of Jane's life and they were only kissing, for God's sake.

This was heaven.

Unable to stop herself, she slid her hand up the smooth curve of Maura's back and pulled her more firmly into the embrace, her other hand sliding back into curls and holding them together as tongues tangled. When they finally broke for air again, it was Jane who spoke. It was Jane who said 'fuck' in a voice so thick, it was like molten lava.

It was Jane who pulled Maura closer and, as that exquisite neck tipped backwards, it was Jane who let her mouth drift down the muscular, yet so feminine column of her best friend's throat, tongue flicking and lips busy. Maura tasted like salt and sweet, a hint of perfume, something entirely Dr Isles, and incredibly addictive. Feeling a throbbing at the base of the neck, a pulsing, Jane bit down, her teeth pressing gently, then lips sucking, soothing, pulling, rubbing.

It had been years since she'd given anyone a hickey, but she couldn't help herself. It wasn't the need to mark Maura per se, but there had to be an element of that under the burning, quaking, fiery desire to taste, and to taste everything.

When her mouth found the blonde's jaw, there was a turn, just a slight turn, and their lips met again.

How could kissing be this good? How could she have thought anything she'd done in the past had been even remotely beyond bland because this, this experience, was blowing her out of the water.

Maura's hands frantically scrambling at the buttons on her shirt pulled her back to reality somewhat. She stared down in confusion as the edges of her top were separated and there was skin, her own skin, and Maura's voice.

"Yes."

That was all: yes. But the breathy, low growl said so much more, and Jane felt it soak through to her bones. Long, manicured nails scratched along her abdomen and the detective froze to the spot. She swore she was about to swoon then and there. Frissons of electricity were running up and down her skin, and Maura's eyes seemed glued to her abs.

"Yes." This time it was a whisper, a needy, intense whisper.

Jane found her voice. "Maura…" It came out gravelly, rolling. She couldn't say more. She couldn't force the words out. Everything was in that name and it was enough. The doctor's hands moved around to the taller woman's back as they came together again.

From feeling welded to the kitchen floor, Jane suddenly found the momentum she needed. Propelling them forward, she negotiated the path to to the bedroom on auto-pilot. Her lips were working furiously on the woman in front of her. Maura seemed equally fervent in her need to keep their connection going, and Jane almost tripped when she felt nails score her back.

"Fuck."

Her lips tore away, and they'd only made it to the small corridor outside the bedroom. She couldn't stop herself, though. Reaching down, she grabbed the smaller woman's hips and slammed her gently into the wall.

"Oh…"

It was a cry of sudden breathlessness, but Jane couldn't mistake the underlying arousal that threaded the single utterance. Hands slid down, as the brunette found the skin between newly hitched skirt and — oh, God! — thigh-high stockings held up by suspenders.

Jane Rizzoli had never really considered herself gay, but at that moment she felt more lesbian than Ellen. And, given that Maura was clawing at her back, moaning while Jane's tongue (and teeth) were raking up that incredible neck, it was definitely mutual. Blistering heat made way to molten need as the brunette found the skin at Maura's thighs, just below what felt like pure lacy, barely-there underthings. Sliding around and squeezing between the wall and Maura, she cupped the firmest globes she'd ever had the luck to appreciate, and then lifted.

If, a bare week ago, someone had suggested that Jane would nearly orgasm at the feel of the Chief Examiner of Massachusetts wrapping her legs around her waist, she would have laughed in their face. Now, all she could do was steady them against a wall. She had no way to get her hands somewhere useful, but she could feel that Maura was pressing against the seam of her jeans. In her head, the blonde was wet and Jane could almost feel it.

Their mouths met again as the brunette thrust her hips forward. Legs tightened reflexively around her, and Jane thrust again, more gently, once, and then twice. When Maura's mouth fell away, letting out a cry, she knew she'd hit the mark.

The words that came next cut to her core.

"Please, Jane!"

Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. She had to… she needed to… she needed to be inside Maura. There was an overwhelming, undeniable need to consume the blonde, to possess her, to be surrounded by her at the same time and most of all — by far, most of all — was the need to make her come.

"Hold on," she rasped.

How the most ridiculous conversation she'd ever had with Maura had turned into this, Jane would never know. And she didn't care. She just needed Maura on the bed. Now. Preferably naked, although the detective would settle for semi-naked and open.

Those breasts, she needed to see them. Years of pretending not to ogle the incredible rack that was paraded around in front of her was over. She needed to see them. And taste them. And she needed to be inside Maura, soon.

When she unceremoniously dropped the blonde on the bed, Maura bounced with a small 'oof'. There was no time to apologise; instead, she leaned down, one knee between Maura's slightly spread legs.

Their mouths fused, and a hand came up to clench in Jane's shirt, another curving on the back of her neck. Before she could be distracted, the brunette made sure she made quick work of the buttons on that damnable blouse which showed only a hint of exactly what she wanted to see. Breaking their kiss, she moved up, ignoring Maura's murmur of disapproval, and spread the sides of the blonde's top out.

Oh God. Black-lace-encased creamy white… oh God.

She was so gay.

Her mouth found the swell of one breast with fervent speed. Maura tasted like heaven. There was a flurry, and a proud moment where Jane succeeded in undoing a bra with one hand underneath her panting lover, and then nothing but groans of happiness.

And then there were panted gasps of begging from Maura as Jane's lips found the rosy tip of one breast and gently, ever so gently, engulfed it into the hot cavern of her mouth. It was the writhing pleasure of the woman beneath her that drove Jane on, sucking harder, and raking with teeth. Nothing she did seemed to be wrong. She could feel the thrusting of hips up against her knee as evidence.

It was only moments after switching her attention to the other luscious breast in front of her that Jane found her head wrenched away by a hand firmly threaded through her hair. It hurt, but her gasp was smothered by lips and by the fact that her whole body was immediately thrown off balance and pulled down on top of Maura. They writhed together, before hands pulled at clothing and somehow, in a flurry of activity, there was just Maura, in her lacy underwear and stockings and, somehow, a naked Jane.

She made her way back on her forearms, hips gently canting down as she stared down at a dishevelled, flushed and very aroused Maura. Fingers trailed up the taut muscles of Jane's arms and the brunette moved her hips again.

Seeing Maura swallow and arch slightly was enough to make Jane shudder into her.

"Please, Jane!" It was a whisper, an echo from what seemed like eons before, but it was enough.

Kneeling up, Jane ran her hands down the sides of skin so soft it seemed unreal, before tucking fingers into lace that was black as the bra it matched. Swallowing, like she was dying of thirst and about to open a bottle of icy-cold water, Jane slid the panties down legs that were shaped like a Goddess had formed them in heaven, and threw them unceremoniously on the floor behind her.

Neatly trimmed blonde curls and slightly closed legs did nothing to hide the fact that Dr Maura Isles was very, very turned on.

Jane groaned.

Everything was instinct. She hadn't done this before. In the back of her mind she was genuinely afraid of disappointing by fumbling like a school boy. But she knew she'd done more than all right thus far because the scratches on her back were still stinging and Maura was looking so needy. Jane let her hand drift: to a hip; across a soft lower abdomen; over quivering muscles; and then down.

Maura's legs shifted and Jane tried not to leap forward and rush the moment. Her fingers brushed down, dewy moisture on the tips as she found the core of Maura peeping through pink folds. She loved the way the blonde jumped beneath her as she brushed it again, and then harder.

"Oh…"

Maura's hips jerked harder, as her hand wrapped around Jane's muscular forearm. Jane changed the angle of her hand, two fingers sliding into the wettest, warmest thing she had ever felt and sliding down. There was an urgent need in the sudden pulsing of Maura's hips, pushing Jane towards the one thing they both wanted.

And although Jane had wanted to take it slow, savour the moment and ease them both into it, she couldn't stop. Later, she would recall this as the point of no return, that one defining moment, despite the fact that they were patently far too far gone, naked and panting, to be anywhere but several miles beyond the point of no return already.

When Maura grabbed her wrist, lifted her hips and brought it all together, Jane's plans of sweet, slow movements were dashed. She thrust inside Maura and their twin moans filled the air.

Hot, wet, and so tight. Maura felt so good and Jane felt her own muscles go rigid at the feeling. Instinct, pure instinct had her moving in and out, faster than she intended, harder than she thought Maura might like, but the blonde was writhing, thrusting back, crying out and both of her hands were gripping the bedspread.

"Fuck," Jane muttered. It didn't seem like enough to describe the amazing things happening at the end of her arm, so she said it again. "Fuck."

Her wrist moved as she hovered above her lover, sweat starting to bead in the small of her back. Knees, beautiful Maura knees, came up to hug her hips and Jane pushed between them, thrusting, panting, twisting, reaching, but always thrusting.

It was pure, unadulterated sex, and Jane knew that she was doing the right thing. Every time she twisted her fingers, curled the ends, she could feel Maura tighten around her. She could hear the breathless, almost nonsensical begging falling from those beautiful lips, and yet couldn't help feeling that it wasn't enough. Maura was straining, and her voice had risen several octaves, but Jane knew that she wasn't THERE.

And God, Jane wanted to take her there. And Maura was starting to get really, really vocal about wanting to be there.

She'd never… Well, she'd thought about it. Obviously in the darkest corners of her mind, where the truth had hidden, she'd THOUGHT about it, but doing it was something else.

What if she was really bad at it? She hated it when other people were really bad at it but what if she…

Maura's moan of need, followed by her shaking whimper, threw Jane out of her own head again. She slid down, her hand moving. The change in angle brought a cry of dismay from the blonde. You didn't have to be a decorated detective to tell how close she was.

And how good she looked. And the scent was unexpectedly arousing. Jane's head hovered over where her hand was moving, watching mesmerised at how wet her fingers were as they glided in and out of something Jane never thought she'd think of as overwhelmingly beautiful.

But it was, and it was only moments of appreciation before more instinct took over. Jane lowered her head.

There was a cry of exultation from above, as Maura's hips canted up needily. Jane let her lips move until she found the small bud, straining and throbbing and touched the tip of her tongue to it.

In the little time that she had, Jane discovered that going down on another woman was something she might actually want to do. A lot. Well, this woman anyway. Only, it seemed like bare moments before everything clenched. Maura went tighter than a vice around her fingers, and thighs clamped around her ears. Though Jane kept moving her tongue, it was practically impossible to move anything else, but that was okay because Maura was screaming.

She was screaming Jane's name and was coming so hard that the brunette was shaking in unison.

And when the blonde collapsed back on the bed, tugging Jane away with gasping moans, she felt slightly bereft. Curbing her disappointment at not being allowed to keep going, and, more to the point, make it all happen again, Jane chose to collapse on the bed next to Maura and pull her, still gasping, into her arms.

Her own need was still pooled, achingly, between her legs, but she ignored it. The smell of Maura's shampoo, all raspberry and coconut, was so good. The feel of the soft, warm, shaking woman in her arms was unbelievable. This feeling was something Jane could definitely get used to. It was something she definitely wanted to do again.

As the woman in her arms slowed her breathing, Jane tightened her arms, afraid that if Maura looked up, spoke, some magical spell would be broken. But eventually it had to be. When Jane pulled back, gently brushing blonde hair from Maura's damp face, something inside her clenched.

"Hi," she said, her voice still low and gravelly.

"Hi," came the reply, followed by an unusually shy grin. Maura was not shy, and Maura was especially not shy about sex, so this was something different. The blonde shifted, but not away from Jane, just into a more comfortable position, cradled in strong arms.

After a few moments of silence, Jane felt the need to fill it. "Well, that was unexpected."

She felt Maura shift in her arms and a short chuckle came out. "No, it wasn't."

Jane smiled into her lover's hair. "No, I guess it wasn't." It had been coming for a very long time indeed.

Now that it had happened, all she felt was the most astounding sense of happiness. Until Maura shifted again, and her knee shifted too.

Jane groaned, her head falling back.

"Jane…"

"Uh… ye… yeah," she replied, swallowing and trying not to thrust her hips.

"Can I touch you?"

Jane groaned. "Fuck, yes!"

And as she was rolled on to her back, not caring in the least that Maura was about to take control, she swore she saw the faintest glimpse of a triumphant smile on the good doctor's face.

And that was just fine. That really was just fine.