Rating: M. a lot.
Characters: Patrick Jane, Teresa Lisbon.
Disclaimer: Uhm. well, my father is called Bruno, but since it's Negro and not Heller, I'd say that I don't own the rights to the Mentalist.
A small smile graced his lips as he looked at her. She had finally fallen asleep, and it was no wonder. A part of him knew he was in part responsible for her lately tiredness. She had been worried about him too much, and he had done nothing to reassure her. He had believed that coming back from Vegas could be enough, but truth to be told, he had been gone longer than that. He had been there with his body, but Teresa Lisbon wasn't a stupid. She knew he was there with his body but not with his mind, heart and soul.
Those parts of him were always after Red John, and it wasn't going to change any time soon. They both knew it. Maybe, it was why she felt a little better, a little more relieved- just a little, though. He still remembered how she had looked at him when she had found him injured in that car in the woods, after Lorelei's escape, but mostly, what couldn't escape his memory palace was her look when she had approached him later in the attic.
Lisbon had been sad, desperate, but somehow, resigned. She knew what he had done, and knew that he would have done it again and again, given the chance. She could see him getting darker and more lost with each passing day, was seeing her worst nightmare coming true right before her eyes. Jane wasn't merely obsessed any longer, he had turned into the hunter, just like Red John. They were both the mouse, and they were both the cat, lines didn't exist any longer, they were too blurry to be still defined.
And she could simply look at this. There was nothing she could do for him, for she knew he wasn't going to listen to her plea. She could only keep her chin up, stick to his side as long as possible and hope that in the end her career would be not shattered, and her life as intact as possible.
She also hoped that her efforts would be rewarded in the end, but she wasn't expecting so much any longer. He knew that she had wished for something more between them before he had been fired from the CBI, but then he had left and vanished, and all her love had turned into pain, and the blossoming hope she had felt after his confession had turned into ashes as soon as Lorelai had described in sordid details their one time together.
Now, as much as she still wanted him, she was doing her best to stay away from him, to push away her feelings. Mancini and Kirkland were both fighting to get her attention (and her naked body in their bed), and he was well aware that lately even Bertram had felt a certain attraction for the brunette. Even suspects were running after her. It was like she was sending pheromones in direction of the whole male population of California, like she was trying to make him understand that if he could have sex, so could she.
It wasn't like she was going to sleep around, but still, it proved her point. And the truth was that he knew and he couldn't do anything about it. They never made promises, and even if they did, she knew that he would have eventually broken them all if it could mean getting Red John.
She smiled and giggled in her sleep, and he turned to look at her, fascinated. He got a little close, and the breath died in his throat when he heard her moaning. It wasn't the kind of moan she let out when she ate ice cream, it was the same kind of sound he had heard few years before coming from Mashburn's room.
Lisbon was having a sex dream.
He felt filled with rage, and a part of him wanted to wake her up with everything he got, with his whole being. They should have known right from the start that just one man had any right upon her and it was him. He had never felt so jealous, so possessive, and it didn't make any sense. After all, she had a life, she slept with men, men who weren't him, and yes, he was bothered, but not so much. In real life, after all, sex was sex, a mean to an end, a way to get relief, a release when her own touch wasn't enough, but dreams were another thing.
If she was dreaming of a man... it was because she really wanted him, and if she really wanted another man, then she was done with him.
She moaned, purred, moaned again and giggled, and then, still in her sleep, she huskily said a single word... "mmm.....Jane..."
His cock immediately came to life in his pants, getting so hard it menaced to grow out of his waistband. He closed his eyes, and calmed down every part of him - breathing, heartbeat, his erection- with every bio-feedback trick he knew. It was working quite well, but then the air was filled with the musky scent of her arousal, and she moaned in a slightly different way, and he made the mistake of looking at her.
She was pouting and... sucking the void around her full lips, humming in pleasure...She was dreaming of giving him a blowjob, and that was too much. his cock returned full force once again, and this time it did grew out of his waistband. Jane, as much as he wanted to get it done, to have the release he had denied himself since Lorelai, he resisted temptation, and just looked at her, trying to think about things that would erase any trace of arousal- the fact that they were investigating a murder, grandmothers, Cho. Besides, it was too risky. He was afraid of what she would have done if waking up, she would have seen first thing his privates on display, spouting seed . and he was once again doing quite well until...
Still pouting and sucking his dream-cock, she slowly moved her right hand, and went to touch her groin. Her index finger moved on the fabric of her slack, and she giggled with intent, dreaming of milking him with her lips and getting a release with her own touch.
He opened his pants and lowered enough his underwear, getting it out of the way, and gripped as strongly as possible his hard-on, sighing in pleasure, like to say, finally. His own touch was strong, almost painful, and he couldn't span his shaft completely, but he rubbed enough portion of himself to get the job done. He moved the taunt skin up and down. He pushed his thumb over the tiny slip on the tip of his massive cock, humming in satisfaction when his efforts were gratified with a huge amount of precum.
He lubed himself up with his balm, his grip getting stronger, his movements quicker. He couldn't stop looking at her. He couldn't stop imagining Lisbon pleasuring herself, naked, while thinking about him, he couldn't stop imagining her lips around his cock in real life, he couldn't stop imagining looking at his cock while they fucked like rabbits in heat.
He heard noises coming from her, and he looked at her face, her expression a clear indication that in her dream they were both coming, and in that instant, when another wave of her intimate scent, this time stronger, reached him, filling his nostrils and his whole being as she opened her lips just a fraction, murmuring the lowest and softest, and yet sweetest, "I love you" he had ever heard.
It did it.
His felt the telltale indications that is release was getting closer and closer, and he bit his lips to avoid being too loud, to avoid awakening her before her could have cleaned himself up a bit.
He came, his cock spouting seed like an erupting volcano, a mighty ejaculation, almost endless, and the more he came, the more he used his own seed to lube his length, the more he jerked off, and the more he jerked off, the more he came, filling his hands so much that... he so wanted to give it to her, wake her up with a sinful kiss, or maybe... he wanted to put his hands right before her nose, wanted for her to breath in his scent, the scent of his come, and he wanted to order her to lick him clean.
But he didn't.
He just came, as silently possible, and once he had come down from his high, he took an handkerchief, and cleaned himself up, disposing of it in a bin of the brand new Catalina II home, just to avoid that she could get what he had done from his lingering scent. He even took the small bottle of scented disinfectant he kept in one of his pockets, and rubbed a small amount of liquid between his palms. Just to make sure: he valued his own life and his ability to have sex too much to risk her wraith.
He heard someone entering, and he went to wake her up; his hand lingered on her tights, ghosting over the soft fabric, but he resisted temptation, and reached for her arm instead.
"Ehy…what?" He smiled, imagining how she could have looked like with a rivulet of his own seed escaping her beautiful sex swollen, well fucked lips.
"You were talking in your sleep…" He closed his eyes and reprimanded himself his cock once again coming back to life, once again as hard as to drive nails. He had to stop thinking about what she had said and done in her dreams, if he wanted to avoid embarrassing himself in the middle of a crime scene.
"Really? What did I say Jane?"
He looked at his little black book, concentrating on each name already written, thinking about the people he had met in the last ten years and he hadn't listed there yet. He felt he was so close, he could almost feel Red John's breath on his skin. He could almost touch victory, taste the sweetness of his revenge on the tip of his tongue.
Just few more steps, and he would be free.
He was going to think about every single person he had met since his ultimate downfall, and besides, now he had another ally. Lorelai knew the truth now, and was a good enough manipulator to not let it slip while confronting Red John. She would be back, because now she knew who was truly her friend, and then... he would finally be free. He was going to do with the rest of his life just what he had told Carter that he would, he would move on with his life and start anew. He would get married and have a family of his own. He would be a husband and a father again. His future was now within reach, and he knew he was going to be part of it. He knew the name of the woman he would wait for at the aisle, the beautiful white-dressed, raven haired angry little princess without a tiara that would carry his children.
From the window, he saw Noah and his sister Juliana leaving, and he knew that it was time. She had done so much, waited for so long, that she deserved something in return.
She deserved to see her dreams coming true.
He took the stairs, running as fast as he could, the anticipation making him almost fall, his feet didn't even seem to do as he wanted them to. He wasn't master of hi on body any longer, desire was all he felt, and nothing else. He was going to seduce her. No matter what.
He reached the Major Crimes floor, and hid in one of the interrogation room when he saw that Lisbon was still talking with Sarah outside the office. The recently turned DA wasn't too happy about the development of the case, but her whole posture and the way she was biting her lips screamed that she understood. Besides, only the team had seen Juliana discharging her weapon, and it wasn't like the Ghouls were going to call the police.
The two women exchanged pleasantries for a little longer, and their smiles told him that little Ben was the topic. Or maybe, each other. As much as private as they were, they liked each other. Lisbon liked how "mean" and hard-assed Sarah could be, despite the appearance, and Sarah appreciated Lisbon because she had been able to gain with only her own efforts such a powerful position inside a male-dominated environment.
Sarah left, and Teresa returned to her office to sat at her desk and doing some more paperwork, and Jane immediately followed her, making his presence known. He casually stood in the doorway, leaning against the thin frame of clear wood, hands in his pockets, like nothing could bother him at all.
"You did the right thing, Teresa. After all, you too had been ready to fight with everything you had to protect and keep together your family when you were as young as -" he said as he got closer and closer to her, walking awfully slowly. He could see that she was looking at him, studying every step he took. She hated that he was taking all the control, she was unnerved because she didn't know what was going on and what was his point.
He loved it. With a passion. As much as he loved her, probably.
She didn't answer him, and he wasn't surprised. She knew he had been right when he had asked her to let it go of this girl- as much as he had been right when he had asked her to let go another girl, a girl who (like Teresa) had been abused by her father and who had killed the same father in self-defense- but it didn't mean that she liked it. Because she hated questioning her role, her badge. A police officer was what she had been since she had left Chicago, her family and Greg behind. She was no mother, no wife, no daughter. She was barely a sister and an aunt. She had sacrificed everything for the job, and if the job was wrong... who, and what, was she?
She was the sister who kept the family together, and who made sure that her brothers started to talk with each other again. She was the mother figure that Annie's mother had never been, the one her niece looked for when she needed advice and female comfort. She was the one her team was ready to die for, the one they wanted to be like.
And she was the only one who made is heart beat once again, the only one who gave him hope in tomorrow, the only one that was worth fighting for. She was the woman he had fallen in love with, the one he wanted to have his second chance with- life, marriage, maybe even fatherhood.
And she didn't know. She didn't understand how great and important she was, for all of them.
"What do you want, Jane?" she asked him, somehow tired of it all, resigned to be a mere tool in his hands.
He smiled of a wicked smile, knowing she wasn't looking at his face. He was going to show her who she was, what she meant for him, and they were going to enjoy every second of it.
"What I want? But to make your dreams coming true, of course, little Teresa." he grinned, and he got even closer. He got so close that he was invading her own space, so close that he was leaning on her lithe form, and his dark eyes, his dilated pupils was so erotic, so arousing, that Lisbon wetted her panties in record time. She blushed, embarrassed, knowing that he could smell her arousal, the strength of her desire, but he shamelessly chuckled, almost darkly, and breathed in her scent, getting his fill. She was invested by a new gush of arousal, she was so horny, he got her so horny, that she would have died if he hadn't done something about it.
God helped her, she wanted him. Wanted him so deep it would hurt, feel like he would break her in two, wanted him to fuck her, hard and fast, wanted him to fill her to the brim with his essence, feel his seed everywhere on her body, rubbing it on every single inch of her skin...
He bit her lobe, and she gasped, because such a simple touch made her inner muscles clench in a fiery orgasm, but she had been so ready for him, so wet for Patrick Jane... she had woken up from her nap inside the Catalina with something... she needed to scratch. Or maybe, she needed him to.
"You talk in your dreams, little Teresa. You moaned my name. Asked for my cock. Do you want it, little Teresa? Because if you do, you can have it..." he grinned, took her hand in his own, and guided her fingers to his groin. He forced her palm on the bulge in his pants, forced her to rub it sensually, press on the fabric of his slacks with force, to feel her effect on him, to feel his need and desire, his willingness. "Because I like the idea. A lot."
She didn't answer with a word, she simply moaned, and looked at him through hooded eyes. He grinned, and descended on her, taking her lips in a sinful kiss. His tongue didn't demand or beg for access, as his tongue licked her lips, she knew he was simply letting her know what he wanted. She opened for him, and he immediately took control of the situation. He penetrated the tiny cavern of her mouth in the same way his tongue would have entered her thigh cavern, in the same way his cock was going to take possession of such a fierce body. It wasn't a battle, because she had already lost, she had surrounded to him, completely.
She had done so many years before, when she hadn't insisted that he would be looking for a new life, as far away from California as possible, but she had instead taken him in, signing with him, convincing her boss that it was going to be worth it. Did she do it just because she knew that he was going to close cases, was it because of pity, or because the attraction had already been there, even back then? He didn't know, and he didn't care. After all, the only important thing was that they were there, together.
"Oh, Teresa..." he moaned, again and again and again between kisses, one hand buried in the raven cloud of her hair, the other massaging her breasts through the fabric of her shirt.
She grabbed him for his curls, she run her fingers through the blonde hair, delighted by the softness, like silk or velvet, like she had always imagined them to be in her wildest dreams, when she was allowed to think about them as Patrick and Teresa the lovers, instead of Agent Teresa Lisbon and her team's consultant, Mr. Patrick Jane.
She cried, and he kissed away every single tear.
"Please little Teresa, tell me you want it... tell me you dream of me...of us..." he begged, his kisses lingering on her face, on the soft skin he had only dreamt until then to touch; she moved away slightly, and without breaking eye-contact, she nodded her consent, her need for him, her desires. "Open my pants, Teresa, and take my cock. It's yours, to do as you wish."
They both stood, and Teresa quickly, but with easy, practice and elegance, opened his belt and his belt. She lowered his cloth and underwear enough that his cock could sprang free, and when it did, she licked her lips, staring adoringly and with anticipation at his hard flesh, so huge she knew there was no way she could span it - not that she planned to right now- and that made her wonder if she could actually take him. WAs there any room in her body for such a monstrous dick? She wasn't sure, but if he could do her, she knew that he would have been able to go so deep to fuck her womb.
"Sit here, Jane. You don't want to stand for this..." she giggled, and walking clumsy back to her desk, and did as she had demanded. Once sat, he even allowed her to undress him fully, removing every single piece of clothing from his body. Underwear, pants, shoes and socks went first, followed by vest and shirt. She run again her fingers through his curls, and she kissed him, again and again, like her life depended on it, like she couldn't get enough, like they had to make up for lost time, for all the missing opportunities.
"Teresa..." he moaned her name like a prayer, the letters rolling on his tongue like ambrosia, the nectar of the Gods.
She kept kissing him, her lips everywhere, she sucked his nipples in her mouth, sucked them into tiny buds. He couldn't believe he was so sensitive over them, no woman had played with his body like Lisbon was. With Angela they had been too young, first time lovers the both of them, they had never experimented, Vanilla had been their religion, and Lorelai... during the act he had willed a part of him to leave, he didn't want to remember that time, as much as it had helped him to get where he was today. But it hadn't been... it wasn't vanilla, nor wild or carefree, it had felt like a job, he had taken her from behind and not once looked into those eyes, because he had knew that they wouldn't have been emerald green.
"Do you know what I dreamt of, Jane?" she asked him, whispering the words in his lobe. " I dreamt of you, sitting in this chair, and me, on my knees, milking your cock with my mouth..."
She giggled again, and he was lost.
She sank to her knees, and kissed tenderly the tip of his cock, looking wickedly in his eyes, then, with just the tip on her tongue, like she was some sort of she-devil, she licked his whole manhood, from tip to base, again and again and again, just to enjoy her power over him, the way his body shattered under the onslaught of incoming orgasmic pleasure.
She took just the tip in her mouth, sucking on it like it was candy, setting an hard rhythm. She usually sucked 3 or 4 times, hard, then paused for a section, and sucked again. her tongue was in the tiny slit on top, gathering as much as precum as she could. Not to lube him, just to taste it, he tasted clean, and masculine, perfect and addictive.\
She moved her head a tiny bit, and she slowly took him in her mouth, inch for agonizing inch. He couldn't stop looking at the spectacle, Teresa's mouth and throat welcoming his massive shaft.
He kept still, and as soon as she started to deep-throating him, sucking his whole length, plying dirty games with her tongue against the taunt skin, he shuddered all over, a sensation made so much more powerful by the pleasurable hums of pleasure of Teresa against his cock.
She took his stilled hands, and put them in her hair, and Jane didn't need any ulterior encouragement: her movements had been too slow until that moment, so, roaring like a lion, he forced her to increase the velocity and the sensations.
The sight of Lisbon between his legs was too much, like having her bobbing up and down, giggling and looking into his eyes, like a silly girl, like a dirty little girl hot and wet for her teacher... he roared again, between clenched teeth, and he went still, coming into her mouth without any chance of telling her so.
She didn't care. She increased her tempo, and sucked every drop of his juice, drinking him whole, milking Jane for all he was worth with gusto. He was delightful, not too salty, rich and intense, a balm for her. She swallowed it all, allowing just few rivulets to escape, willingly: she released him, and still looking into his eyes, she cleaned her chin with her index, sucking it into her mouth in the same way she had just done with his cock. He was speechless, and there was only one thing to do: his body did as he willed- as he wished- it to, and he got hard again, just like that.
She got up, and danced to an invisible music, imagined to be in her own home, to listen to the Spice Girls like that night so many years before: she strip-teased for him, slowly and sensually, her eyes never moving far away from his own ones or his cock.
She so couldn't wait to have that mammoth thing inside her.
Shoes, shirt and pants, and then her socks (dark black holds-up), followed by her bra. It was black lace, matching panties and holds-up, with no straps and a front clasp. She undid it when he was eye-level with her breasts, and as soon as she released the creamy mounds from their cage, he took a nipple in his mouth, sucking it until it hurt. Still giggling, she parted, the nipple, to his dismay, escaping his lips.
She giggled again, putting on a show for him, and he stared at her dancing tits captured, bewitched. She moved like a ballerina- an erotic one- until she reached the piece de resistance, slowly, very, very slowly, she lowered her drenched panties, revealing to the howling man right before her sex, dark pink, coral, swollen, wet, glistering and with no hair.
He licked his lips, and yet again she got closer, so close that he thought she was going to allow him to taste her under his tongue, but at the last moment she moved away, making a no-no sign with her fingers, tsk-ing at the man.
"Ah, ah, Mr. Jane. You said I could do with your cock as I preferred, it means it is all about me. So, forget it and come here. I think you know what I want, right?"
She looked at him with intent, and took her favorite posture when it came to sex. She grabbed the edge of her desk with her hands, and spreading her legs, she lifted her heart-shaped ass in the air.
"From behind, really? But I wanted to see your tits bouncing in my face!" he said sounding like a big baby. And frankly: she was too horny to fight him.
"Next time, Jane. Please, for this time, can we do it like this? I like full body contact better than joining just at the hips for a first time..." she pouted, and really, it wasn't like he could say no to her pout. After all, it was what had gotten them into troubles...
He chuckled, and went at her back, doing as she wished, covering her tiny frame with his much larger one; he filled her porcelain skin with wet, butterfly kisses all over, unable of getting enough. "Ok, but I'm telling you, I don't know how long I will last. I already came twice today,..."
She tensed, and angrily she grabbed his length, in a way that wasn't even remotely pleasurable. "Jane" she hissed "who did you have sex with already, today? I hope for your own good it wasn't Lorelai, or I swear..."
"I jerked off while you were dreaming, I swear!" he moaned, almost crying like a big baby. "I swear Teresa... it's just that, you moaned my name and touched yourself... and you were dreaming of sucking my cock and I just had to... please Teresa... I need to come so much... let me come!"
She chuckled at the sound of her victory, and she knew that he was being honest, so she rewarded him. She didn't let it go of his cock, but she simply guided it to her swollen folds, massaging them with the crown, lubing herself with his precum.
He took a moment to look at her, his hands busy caressing like an animal in heat her ass cheeks, his nose in her hair, breathing her in, cinnamon, vanilla, sex, musky arousal and just Lisbon.
One of his hands went to her breasts, playing alternatively with the nipples, pinching them with a pleasurable pain, the other went to her folds, and he opened her up to his penetration, one of her hands angling his shaft, the other buried in his curls.
He pushed inside her from behind, stretching her almost to the point of tearing, and he suffocated her screams of both pain and pleasure, or maybe pleasurable pain, with his kisses. He never stopped kissing her, he kept fucking her with everything he got and never, ever their lips parted. He pushed in her to the hilt, forcing his way in, never allowing her tight confines, her resistance, to win.
He pushed in, and pushed out of her, her body fighting to keep him in, and he feared that it could be enough to make him come, but it wasn't time yet. He left her body almost fully, just to take her once again and again, each time harder and quicker, fucking her like he was a beast, roaring in her mouth. His hold on her hip and her breast was painful, and he knew that he was going to leave bruises all over her white skin, but he couldn't care less. He wanted to mark her for all men to know she was his, No Mancini, Bertram or Kirkland were going to touch her, never, ever.
She was his. His to fuck, his to love, his to protect. He didn't care about Red John any longer, the enemy knew of his love for her, he knew that Lisbon reciprocated that feeling. The only way to be sure she was safe and sound was to be at her side 24/7, and the only way to do so was to be part of her life. In every possible way.
"Teresa... I love you..."he confessed, promising to ever take it back, and in that moment, he came.
He erupted one again, his seed running in her, filling her to the brim, and he kept fucking her, his swollen length lubed by their mixed juices, their arousal and his come. His essence run in rivulets down their legs, wetting the floor, creating a mess he couldn't help but enjoy, being proud of, and in that instant, she followed him over the edge.
Panting, spent, he left her body, but not her; falling on the ground with a movement that only Patrick Jane could make it look like graceful, he gathered her in his arms, and he embraced her, crying together all the tears they hadn't cried since the first time they had wished for this moment to come true, never allowing to, though, before.
He kissed her hair, and she nuzzled the skin of his neck, remembering the only other time she had allowed herself to indulge in such a guilty pleasure, and in that moment, they knew.
The road ahead of them was long and dangerous, and their voyage had just begun. But they were going to face it all together, no matter what, and in the end, they would be victorious.