Okay… this chapter is over 6000 words, but I didn't want to make two parts of it because in that case, the 4th chapter would only contain smut… and I didn't want to make you wait until tomorrow. I hope it's okay that way.
Thank you so much for your relentless encouragement, I'm exceedingly grateful!
I hope you like this story.
Little warning: This chapter is M, and it is very, very M! No idea where all the smutty ideas came from after the fairly tame beginning of this story, but hey… here they are. If you don't like smut, DON'T read this! Don't think: "Oh, this starts so Christmassy and sweet, how bad can it be?" Believe me: I can do BAD ;D! So if you don't read M-stories on a regular basis- this might not be the ideal one to start!
I apologize for any OOCness, although I'm not really sorry- I always like to take the characters to places they haven't been before, and about what they'll be doing there, I'm pretty much just guessing. My favorite pastime, as some of you know, is making Jane lose control… because he has far too much of it for my liking ;D.
Okay- here it is, the giant last chapter of this story! Feel free to read it in snippets if it's all too much ;).
Disclaimer: I don't own the Mentalist, and I don't make money from fan fiction.
Prince of Peace
When Lisbon woke up in the morning, she found herself all alone in a much too big bad. She sternly scolded herself for the tiny bereft feeling in her stomach.
She had spent the brunt of her nights alone, and now she felt like tearing up because Patrick Jane hadn't joined her?
She got up and opened the window, the cold air the final wake-up call she needed. Still the world was filled with blinding white, a new bout of flurries starting to rush from the skies. She groaned. They definitely wouldn't leave before the holidays were over.
She took a quick shower and dressed hurriedly, her mind busy with the by now almost familiar cocktail of feelings and thoughts when she walked into the living room. Patrick Jane lay on the couch, still fully dressed, asleep. The little black notebook with his personal suspects' names lay open on his chest.
Lisbon felt a surge of anger shoot up inside her without being able to control it. Part of her wanted to take the book and tear it to pieces, douse it with gasoline and burn it to a crisp before she jumped up and down on the sorry remains.
Jane was constantly obsessing these days, the lightness was gone, and he was much too occupied to really spend time with her. When did they last have dinner together? She couldn't remember, but before Lorelei had come into his life, they had spent at least one evening per week at a cozy restaurant, contemplating all kinds of things together. Now he sat in his attic every night, pondering the names on the stupid list.
She couldn't even be openly mad at him. She had always known that Red John came first in his life, so how could she complain now for being a bad second place in his life? Third even, since Lorelei came along.
She groaned in pain. Childish thoughts. But she'd never been that much in love, so this was all pretty new to her.
She went into the bedroom and took a fluffy blanket from the drawer, covering him with it from his chin to the toes. She left the notebook where it was, knowing he would freak out when he woke up and didn't find it where he had put it.
Then she grabbed her overcoat and walked out into the stark white snowy desert.
It felt good to feel the fresh air on her skin, even if it was cold enough to make her flinch at first. When she finally reached the hotel, she had no doubt her cheeks and nose were as red as they were cold.
The foyer was buzzing with life and activity, all the guests were snowed in, and shopping in one of the countless little store was pretty much the only mainstream entertainment when one was fed-up with being pampered at the spa.
Lisbon roamed the shops, trying to find the perfect thing, until she finally ended up at the jeweler. The owner looked like Santa himself, all white beard and ruddy cheeks, and Lisbon found herself smiling. Slowly, she found herself getting into a Christmassy mood. It was Holy night, and she wasn't alone, but together with the man she loved. So what if they couldn't really be as close as she wanted to because they were confused about everything and maybe he didn't love her at all? He was with her now, and if that was all she had, she would enjoy it as long as it lasted.
The Santa-look-a-like smiled brightly at her, and she found a spark of actual happiness deep inside her, right next to the tight knot of fear, worry and anguish. The price of her love.
When she came back, she found Jane in the bathroom, sitting on a chair in front of the sink, his upper body bare. He was soaping his cheeks and jaw, humming low under his breath.
Lisbon stood in the doorframe, watching him silently. She realized that she had never seen him without a shirt despite the one time when she had rescued him from the pond where he'd nearly drowned, and of course she hadn't really paid attention then.
She did now, and it was enough to redden her cheeks further. His muscles were strong and firm without being over the top, he was more lean than muscular. His skin looked golden and soft, he wasn't half as pale as she was, and her fingers instantly itched to touch him.
"Where have you been?" he asked.
"You could actually help me, Lisbon. It's nice when someone else does the shaving."
She had no idea if that was true, but she had shaved her father often when his hands had trembled too much from all the alcohol to do it himself, so she wasn't new to the whole procedure.
Jane pushed his chair away from the sink to give her room, and she stepped between his spread legs. Suddenly the air was burning with electricity, and the quiet contentment she had felt only minutes before was gone.
She took the razor, making sure that her hands didn't shake. She didn't want to hurt him. Slowly, carefully, she dragged the blade over his skin. He raised his face, offering her his throat, and it felt strangely erotic, making her insides churn with excitement. Maybe because he trusted her enough to present one of the most vulnerable parts of her body to her without a hint of hesitation. She saw his pulse hammer at the side of his neck and knew it wasn't fear. He licked his lips, again and again, his light green eyes fastened on her face. Her cheeks burned.
"Don't do that," she said softly, "you'll get soap into your mouth."
"Sorry." He breathed.
She pushed her left hand into his hair to hold his head in place, all the while continuing to shave him, not noticing that she moved closer and closer until his incredibly hard erection dug into her thigh. She paused, but only for a second before she continued calmly, occasionally cleaning the razor in the small puddle of water he had left in the sink. She watched his fine blond beard hairs sink to the ground before she turned and continued, guiding the blade over his exposed throat. His Adam's apple moved when he swallowed, and she involuntarily rubbed her leg against his hard-on.
His breath was fast and shivery, and she leaned down, her lips only inches from his. His pupils dilated enormously. She finished the procedure and made sure she hadn't missed a spot before she took the towel he had warmed on the heater to wipe off the rest of the soap.
"All done," she whispered," and I didn't nick you once."
She gently stroked over his smooth, warm skin, her fingers lingering on his lips for a few precious seconds.
Then she stepped back, coughing to clear her blocked throat, and walked out of the bathroom, taking her overcoat on her way out the front door, desperate to cool off fast.
She stood on the tiny veranda, her arms wrapped around herself. Dammit, she wanted him. Wanted him. Wanted him more than she had wanted anything in her life. She remembered the falling star she had seen. Dammit. She wanted him. So much.
Unfortunately, she couldn't make the final step- it was his to decide, and she had no doubt that while she obviously managed to arouse him, she wasn't his foremost concern at the moment.
Love? Lisbon was not arrogant enough to assume that he truly loved her... even if he did, there was too much debris piled on top of his feelings for anybody, maybe too much for him to ever resolve the matter. Maybe he would never be able to love again. A stray tear froze on her cheek, and she angrily wiped it away.
At least, she had learned what real love felt like- that was something, wasn't it?
Better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all.
Wasn't that how the saying went? She snorted. Right now, this whole love-thingy hurt like hell. She'd always thought that she was a woman who got over love-sickness tremendously fast. Stupid her. She just had never realized that that hadn't been LOVE.
This was. And it burned inside her like acid.
She took several calming breaths and felt just composed enough to go back inside when a snowball hit her square in the face. It was loosely packed and didn't really hurt her, but she gasped from the cold and the shock, staring at a laughing, fully dressed Patrick Jane only some feet away from her.
"Jane!" she yelled, "Stop this immediately, I'm not in the mood for..."
The second snowball hit her shoulder.
"That's the last warning, you jerk, or I..."
Another direct hit on her face.
"You wait," she roared, already bending down to retrieve as much snow as she could with two hands.
She was much better at hitting her target than he was, and she aimed to kill. Three snowballs hit him directly on the face in rapid succession, which didn't quench his laughter one bit.
The fight escalated fast. Lisbon felt her tension boiling up until she exploded, all the frustration, the worries, the fear, wanting him and loving him and being scared of losing him all the time, it made her wild with frenzy, and she channeled the poisonous cocktail into the fight.
Jane laughed like mad, but he seemed to notice what happened to her, so he didn't put up much resistance, simply letting her bombard him with snowballs. He didn't even try to protect his face , and the snow hit him everywhere, soaking into his clothes, cooling his skin.
When he finally surrendered and sank into the snow, lying on his back giggling like a little boy, Lisbon suddenly became scared. She rushed to his side, kneeling down swiftly without thinking.
His hair, his face, the collar of his shirt, everything was wet, and although he was still smiling his teeth started to chatter.
She stroked his icy cheeks, every hint of anger replaced by the tender worries for him.
"Get up, Jane," she hissed, "your clothes are drenched, you're gonna get sick, dammit!"
He snorted, but allowed her to help him up.
"I never get sick, woman."
She led him inside and was already peeling him out of the wet clothes when self-consciousness set in.
His overcoat, jacket and vest lay discarded on the floor, his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing his naked chest, red and blotchy from the cold. He was staring at her, his gaze wild, a little feverish, all humor gone, but he also seemed to be a little scared, as if he were brought into a situation he couldn't quite understand.
She backed off, all the invigorating courage leaving her, she could almost feel her face going pale. She looked down on the ground, feeling miserable and lonely all of a sudden. She didn't have this kind of privileges, and she had no right to corner him. She was good at denying herself the things she craved, she'd never been a seductress like Lorelei Martins.
Teresa Lisbon swallowed the pain and went on. It was what she'd always been doing, every second of her life. Sometimes the emotional mess she fought seemed so huge that it felt like living on a giant dump of hurt and rejection and endless disappointment. A pile of crap that would swallow her one day.
She looked at him, and knew she couldn't hide her longing. It couldn't be helped.
"Maybe you should take a hot bath. I... try to fix us something for dinner, okay?"
Jane soaked in the hot bath, confused and hurting. For the first time in quite a while, he absolutely didn't know what to do.
So what if he acknowledged what was between them, acted on these forbidden feelings that had been secretly swirling all around them for years now?
Mind-blowing passion. Hours and hours of explosive sex. He grew hard again, sighing in defeat while he wrapped his hand around his length and stroked lazily.
The problem was that Teresa Lisbon was the exact contrary of a one night stand. She was the love of his life he'd never expected to find again.
He cursed under his breath.
He could easily lie about his feelings, concentrate on Red John even more, hurting himself as much as he hurt her.
His angel. His hope, the only light he had in his miserable life. Purity he didn't deserve. The gentle heart he searched out in his moments of deepest despair.
He felt like crying.
He didn't want to hurt her. But what would the consequences be if he opened the door to his heart now?
He got out of the tub and dried himself carefully, taking so long he almost annoyed himself. When he was dressed in a new suit he took a deep breath and walked into the living room, trying to adopt his usual calm, slightly arrogant demeanor.
"How long will dinner be?" He flinched slightly when he swallowed the tender endearment he'd almost spilled at the last second.
He was a love-sick fool.
"Maybe an hour," she shrugged, "it's not that late yet."
"Great. I have something to do over at the hotel- I'm back within the hour."
He waved casually and headed out briskly, grabbing his overcoat on his way out. He sighed when he wrapped it around him. Lisbon had put it on the heater to dry, and it was deliciously warm now, protecting him perfectly on his way to the hotel.
It felt wonderful to have her care for him, and the thought that she would always be out there worrying for him warmed him even better than the toasty coat.
A lot of people were around, and he realized that he hadn't missed crowds at all. He could get used to a solitary life with Lisbon, just him and her, always. He had never noticed this longing for a home until now, but she made him feel all kinds of things. His love for her came in so many shades, and he wasn't surprised that earth-shattering desire was one of them.
His beautiful woman. Only she wasn't his. But- he could still be hers, no matter what life brought them. He ended up in front of a tiny jeweler and went inside on a whim. The white-bearded owner looked friendly and open, just like the Coca Cola Santa Claus.
Jane smiled. He would stop making excuses. He would give Lisbon what she wanted most. Everything he could.
He took a deep breath.
"Can you engrave something for me right now?"
The jeweler smiled and took out the engraving iron.
"I'd say I'm pretty handy with this thing." He said, "What would you like me to engrave?"
Lisbon couldn't stop smiling like a silly fool.
Her first stuffed Turkey. And it looked good!
She had tried to do everything just as the recipe book she'd found on the cupboard said. Hmmm, it smelled delicious. She rubbed her hands in glee. So she wasn't as useless as she'd thought when it came to all the things Christmas.
She whistled happily while she set the table, and was almost shocked at the burst of sheer pleasure that spread over her insides when Jane walked into the room.
He was back. The distance he'd had in his eyes when he'd left an hour ago was gone, and his smile was warm and open. She felt his gaze slide down her frame, his eyes going wide with appreciation.
She had put on the only dress she had taken, just because Trenton had told them there would be a Christmas reception where they might have to make an appearance during the investigation. That had never happened, they had solved the crime long before that- but the dress was still there.
It wasn't too spectacular, with a halterneck-top, hazel-green silk, but the color matched her eyes, and it felt good on her skin.
He stepped directly behind her, making her startle when his breath fanned over her skin.
"I look like a beggar next to you." He whispered softly.
"On the contrary," she chuckled," you're overdressed most days of the year- tonight, you're perfect."
He smiled and pressed a tiny kiss on her shoulder- just a short peck. She felt it all the way down to her toes.
It was scary. If he continued like this, she would be a mess of sheer sexual frustration when she finally went to bed. She shuddered slightly.
Her turkey WAS good. It was almost ridiculous how proud she was, but she had never been a great cook, and this just felt good. Jane complimented her repeatedly, and she just glowed in the night and the happiness and the fact that despite all the mess, she spent this day in exactly the RIGHT company. No matter what happened, she would always remember this.
Conversation was easy and light, and it was this familiarity that made her teary. Why did she have to be so greedy? She wanted this every night. Wanted him as a reliable part of her life. She swallowed the huge lump that formed in her throat and tried to smile, but there was no deceiving Patrick Jane. He saw everything.
He got up slowly and cleared the plates, wrapping the leftovers in tinfoil for the fridge before he came over and extended his hand in invitation.
"Let's retreat to the couch," he said, "it's time for your gift."
"But, there won't be any gifts until..." she looked at the watch over the fireplace," oh my god, where has all the time gone?"
It was well after midnight, technically already Christmas morning.
"Merry Christmas, Teresa," he whispered, and for a moment she thought he would really, really kiss her, making her wish come true.
But he changed direction at the last second, and his lips landed on her cheek. She couldn't help the short pang of disappointment but got back on track fast. They weren't... like that. And no matter how much she wished for him- life wasn't a pony farm, and she had to accept it. She smiled up at him, and when he smiled back her heart almost tore in half, for he was just so beautiful, the blond hair gleaming in the soft candlelight, his lips so pale and inviting.
Focus, Agent Lisbon. He's not yours, remember?
They sat down next to each other on the couch, and Jane switched on the lights of the tree.
Lisbon rolled her eyes at him.
"Wow," she said, "now we're truly living the American Christmas dream."
"How does it feel?"
Jane took her hand, interlacing her fingers with his.
"About your gift," he started, but she interrupted immediately.
"No, I want to give you yours first."
He seemed surprised, but said nothing while she retrieved the little box from the bedroom. She had wrapped it in golden paper, but the closer her steps carried her to him, the more insecure she got.
Dammit, she wasn't a coward. She would get this over with now.
She tentatively handed him the gift.
Jane took it as if it where something holy, extremely fragile, all the time looking intently at her. When his fingers touched hers, the box sliding into his palm, she had to look away.
He opened the parcel carefully and found a golden locket inside, with a thick chain that was clearly not made to wear it around the neck, but inside a vest pocket. The engraving read "Yours forever." When he opened it, there was Lisbon's picture.
"It's not a great picture," she said softly, "I'm not especially photogenic. But if you decide to go with Lorelei to catch Red John, I want you to have something to remember me by."
"You think I could forget you?"
She looked at him, and in her eyes shimmered more sadness than he could bear.
"Yes. I think you could if you wanted to."
He cursed himself, cursed that he always hurt the ones he loved most. He was a monster. A soul destroyer.
But at the same time, he cursed himself because he wasn't cold enough. Because he had truly, deeply, madly fallen in love again.
He let the locket slide into the pocket of his vest and leaned back, taking a huge effort to make his face impassive. The clock was ticking, and it felt like a countdown, an ultimatum. He could go on like this and hurt her more. Thank her for her gift with a fake smile, and joke over the awkward silence that would follow. Get back to normal as soon as he could manage. Keep his sole focus on catching Red John.
He looked at her, and knew she was the most wonderful, the most perfect thing in his life. And all he truly wanted for Christmas. The realization almost shocked him. But in the blink of an eye, the decision he had already made at the jeweler seemed unavoidable. And he wanted it. Wanted to do this right now.
"When you wished upon the falling star yesterday- what was it you wished for?"
She sighed miserably.
"Shall I guess?"
He slid to his knees in front of her, wrapping his hands around her waist to pull her closer.
Suddenly, he felt unable to lie at her at all, and it felt scary and relieving at the same time.
"I love you, Teresa Lisbon. I will never allow anything to stand between us. I won't go with Lorelei. I swear. And even if I have to leave for a while sometime in the future, I promise that I'll always come back to you. As soon as I can, running miles through cold and darkness just to hold you in my arms again. I swear, do you listen? I know it's crazy, I know it will make everything more complicated, but I SWEAR. Because I love you."
Lisbon's breath caught in her throat. His face came closer, closer, until she could almost, just almost taste his lips, and when he paused, she wanted to scream in frustration. He hesitated so long that she was scared he would pull away once again, would leave her aching and unfulfilled, but just when she started to give up hope, he covered the last hint of distance and pressed his lips onto hers.
The kiss exploded on her taste buds in a million delicious detonations, the need for him so huge it hurt everywhere. His taste was clean and warm and uniquely him, and she knew she would never be able to let him go. No matter what happened, she would fight like a lioness for him, down to her last breath, would save and protect him no matter what kind of trouble he would get into. He was the most important thing in her life, had been for years now without her really realizing, and nothing could ever exceed this.
She wanted to wrap her arms around him, but he pulled back and sat down next to her on the couch, pulling her into his lap so that she straddled his thighs, facing him.
He looked at her, his eyes moist, and she knew how much this meant for him as if they'd had some kind of telepathic connections. He was in fact moving on, after a decade of hate ready to love again, and although he undoubtedly still wanted to catch Red John, something fundamental had changed.
She kissed him, wanting to chase the dark shadows from his eyes, and almost squealed in delight when his arms wrapped around her in a full-bodied embrace, holding her so tight he pushed the air out of her lungs. She didn't care, she was drowning in his kisses anyway, his taste wrapping around her senses one more, melting into her essence to never leave her again.
She softly broke away to look at his slightly parted, kiss-swollen lips and half-hooded eyes , his pupils dilated with arousal, before her fingers slid over his shirt, his vest, finding the firm bulge of his hard-on.
Jane shuddered like a leaf. His erection was already growing out of his waistband, and Lisbon kept stimulating him, rubbing his hard flesh through his pants, teasing the tip with her naughty fingernails.
He squirmed and twitched, so aroused he felt on fire, but he couldn't stop her. She was so into it, her eyes wide with lust and fascination, her face so close to his he could inhale the addictive scent of her creamy skin. He knew that at this rate, he would come like a fiend in seconds, spilling his seed onto his clothes, ruining a perfectly fine suit. He didn't care at all.
Lisbon's dainty fingers opened the button on his pants, and he sighed in relief when the pressure on his hard shaft relented, the sound turning into a desperate cry when the first ropes of semen burst from his body. He groaned. He always came copiously and shot wide, the jets splattering all over his chest, some droplets even reaching his chin. She was still rubbing his cock with her firm, no-nonsense grip, making him give all he had, and he almost lost consciousness with pleasure when she started to lick his seed from his chin, alternating it with deep, open-mouthed kisses that made him taste himself.
When he was finished, everything was wet and sticky, and he let his head sink against the backrest, trembling all over.
He was so far gone that he hardly noticed that Lisbon slid from his lap until she knelt in front of him, and when he felt her lips on his still semi-hard cock, he cried out in surprise.
"Lisbon, no! I'm an old man..."
She ignored his protest, and he groaned hoarsely when she let his shaft slide down her throat.
Belying his words, he immediately grew rock-hard in her mouth, the sensation almost too acute to bear, his stomach muscles clenching in anticipation.
"Teresa, please..." he whimpered, "I want you, now! I need to be inside you, please."
That stopped her. She released him slowly, making him arch with the sinful movements of her tongue, and as soon as he was free he grabbed her, switching their positions so that she sat in front of him while he knelt between her spread legs.
He wanted her naked as fast as possible, had to force himself to control his movements, be as gentle and careful as possible. He had her squirming with desire in no time, and when he started folding her dress just to drive her insane with impatience she had enough and started to undress herself, carelessly tossing the underwear on the ground until nothing remained. He already knew that she wasn't ashamed about her nudity, and why should she? She was so beautiful his mouth watered with lust.
He watched her breathlessly while he removed his shoes, socks, pants and underwear, worried they would be in the way later.
Her nipples were rock hard , showing how much she wanted him, and when he let his fingers slide between her legs he found her so wet that it had to be more than just arousal.
"Did you already come for me," he whispered tenderly, "and I didn't even notice?"
She nodded softly, her lips slightly parted, he could smell her sweet breath. He leaned forward and kissed her luscious mouth, slowly, meticulously at first, before he let passion take his sanity and pushed his tongue between her lips with ruthless vigor, his hips instinctively mimicking the movements. She tasted like the first touch of sunlight after an endless winter, sweet and heady, her lips so small, plump and delicious beneath his he sucked at them like a starving man. She swallowed his groans, her fingers driving under his shirt, brushing over his skin, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
His erection throbbed as if he hadn't had a violent orgasm only minutes before, and when he felt her small hand wrap around it he cried out in agony. Lisbon rubbed over the taut skin, making him squirm with desperate arousal before her fingers slid down to his balls which drew tight in their need to shoot.
Jane grabbed her wrist and shoved her hand away before she would make him come again just like this, without him knowing the exquisite heat of her body.
He grabbed his cock and put the tip against her wet entrance, not yet pushing into her. He saw her eyes go wild and almost lost consciousness when her heat wrapped around him, her firm flesh, swollen with arousal, rubbing over the most sensitive spots on his body.
He grabbed her waist with both hands and started to slide into her.
Heaven, she was so tight. He needed considerable force to get in there, but she arched his body against his, urging him on, and he grabbed her thighs to spread them further while he opened her with sharp, rough thrusts, making her bounce under the impact, alternating the sharp jabs with long, gliding moves that finally brought him inside her to the hilt. His balls hit her buttocks and he was almost proud of his tiny princess for taking all of him, cushioning his whole length inside of her, her molten heat burning all around him.
He shuddered. Heat, wet, delicious heat, the merciless friction of her tight sheath- his breath seared his lungs, rough and panting, and he groaned when he pulled back slightly, only to push into her again, to savor the vise-like clasp of her sex some more.
He looked down and saw her clit swollen with need, so close to her entrance he would rub against it with every thrust. He smiled a cruel little smile. She would come as violently as he would.
He gave her a few tentative thrusts, all the time watching breathlessly how his shaft rubbed over her sensitive clit until she was squirming beneath him, sweat breaking out on her perfect skin.
"Patrick," she whispered, and her using his first name almost did him in, "harder- please!"
Who was he to deny her?
She pushed her fingers under his shirt, raking her nails over his stomach, making the muscles clench. It felt so good when she touched him, so good that he could touch her all he wanted, didn't have to restrain himself like he'd done for years. He leaned over and kissed her breast, sucking the nipple into his mouth, gently using his teeth until she screamed with lust.
Her fingers almost tore his shirt at his shoulders in her clawing need to get closer, and Jane let his lips wander to her lips, delving into a deep, wet kiss before he started to thrust in earnest.
She felt so small beneath him, but she urged him on until he just couldn't hold back, hammering into her full force, his hips slapping against hers, pushing her upwards on the couch with every rough stroke.
He panted into her ear, the friction was mind-blowing, her searing hot walls rubbing nerves too sensitive for touching, and if he hadn't gritted his teeth he'd never have stopped screaming. It got even worse when she came, came so hard he could see her stomach muscles contract with the force of it, her cries of pleasure heightening his own arousal until he saw stars.
He increased his speed, thrusting hard all through her orgasm, prolonging her contractions until she shook from coming so much. Her hands clenched on his buttocks and he growled, every touch adding to his hunger for her, he felt his whole body coiling in his need to come.
He forced himself to hold back, just a little longer, knowing every additional thrust would drive her insane, and he gave what he had, his strokes hard and deep.
He lost it when she came again only minutes later, her contracting sex squeezing him like a vise, and his eyes rolled back into his head when he surrendered. The first spurt of his seed was much more explosive then when he'd come on his clothes earlier. It felt as if his essence were wrenched from him, every sharp jet like a wave, filling her up until it trickled down her buttocks. It excited him beyond words and made him come even harder, his stomach muscles clenching until it hurt.
He put his hands on her thighs and pushed, opening her wider, pulling out of her to spill some seed directly onto her clit before he pushed back inside, aroused enough to just resume thrusting. He couldn't believe what she did to him, she turned him into some kind of sex-crazed maniac, but he had waited so long that he just couldn't stop.
"Bed," he croaked and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He even managed a few firm strokes while he was walking, using his hands beneath her butt to guide her along his cock. He was almost as hard as he had been before his release, and Lisbon's greedy, passionate kisses gave him the rest. She sucked on his tongue as if she were starving for his taste, and he kissed her back with frenzied vigor.
He placed her on the mattress, careful not to slip out of her in the process, and when she gave him a naughty squeeze with her internal muscles, he roared like a wildcat.
Don't stop, Lisbon thought frantically, just don't stop, please.
She'd come harder than she ever had before in her life, but he kept renewing the itch, making her hotter and hotter until she thought she would burst any minute. He put her legs over his shoulders and thrust at an enormous speed, she couldn't believe he simply continued after coming like he just had, but he didn't show the slightest signs of exhaustion, gently letting his fingertips brush over her calf while he fucked her so hard her teeth were chattering with excitement.
Her body was on fire, every little nerve ending tuned to him, and he could make her come as often as he wanted to, she surrendered willingly to the sweet lust coursing through her body, her sleek muscles already contracting around his cock again. He felt so huge it was almost painful, but she enjoyed every second, silently willing him not to stop. She exploded like a rocket, coming until she was sobbing from the power of her release, and still she wailed in disappointment when he pulled out of her, her traitorous body begging for more.
Jane pushed her legs from his shoulders and kissed her, his massive erection throbbing against her stomach, and she so wanted him to push back inside, make her come again, wanted him to fuck her until she couldn't move.
He pushed his tongue into her mouth, making sweet little sounds of sheer pleasure, and for a moment she just sank into his kiss, playing with him, teasing his lips until he started to rub against her.
He broke the kiss then and pulled away, straightening until he knelt between her spread legs, smiling a wild smile at her.
He grabbed her and flipped her onto her stomach, making her gasp in surprise, the sound turning into a lustful groan when he slid his hands over her buttocks before he wrapped them around her waist and pulled her up on all fours. When she felt his cock nudge between her folds she all but melted for him, her body so hungry her swollen nipples hurt. She'd never felt this way, greedy, insatiable, her strong rational mind gone.
She never lost her mind. But this time she didn't seem to have a choice.
Jane slammed into her with a single, hard thrust, driving home to the hilt. He stretched her to the point of tearing, but she didn't care at all, the soft touch of pain felt too delicious, she pushed her backside against his hips while he was pounding into her at full speed.
Jane didn't take prisoners, he aimed to explode inside her as fast as possible, but since he'd already come twice he could go on for quite some time, while Lisbon came almost immediately and continued to do so during his whole onslaught.
The orgasms he triggered were enormous, every single one of them, wrecking her body like an earthquake, getting even bigger every time she felt his hard shaft grate over hyper-sensitive tissue, and he never relented one bit.
She heard his panting breath, felt the bruising grip of his hands on her hips, and everything added to the mind-blowing storm deep inside her. Jane took her so hard she almost passed out after coming several times, her inner muscles still contracting, her small frame battered by the rough strokes of his hard cock inside her.
More, she thought, please more, please , please, please...
Jane pulled out of her, but before she could voice her protest, he had turned her around and pulled her onto his lap, pushing into her once more. He used his hands beneath her buttocks to guide her up and down his shaft, thrusting into her at the same time. The base of his cock rubbed against her clit with every thrust, and she thought she would lose her mind when she came again, clutching at his shoulders in nameless frenzy.
She felt it the exact second he surrendered and started to ejaculate inside of her, his whole body became rigid in her embrace, and he gave a mighty roar before she felt his heat flood her core in large, powerful spurts. She held him through his convulsions, his frame shaking against hers while he ejaculated copiously, his arms like iron bands around her as if he never wanted to let go again.
They tumbled onto the sheets when he was done, Jane shivering with exhaustion. Despite his tiredness he groaned in protest when he finally slid out of her, and Lisbon smiled.
She kissed him, playfully and full of tenderness, and when he pushed his tongue into her mouth, she deepened the kiss with sweet abandon.
He sighed when she broke the kiss, closing his eyes in bliss.
Lisbon let her gaze wander over his body.
She saw that there were traces of semen on his still semi-hard shaft, and she started to lick her lips in hunger at the thought of tasting...
"Don't even think of it, woman!" Jane growled and grabbed her shoulders, stopping her action in advance, "You do some strange things to me. If you put your tongue down there now, I'll be going at it like a rabbit until the morning hours. Do you want that?"
"In fact," she purred," that's EXACTLY what I want."
He growled at her.
"You little minx are INSATIABLE. Let me rest an hour or so, and we'll see about your request."
He made quick work of his shirt and vest, tossing them to the ground without caring where they landed, then lay down on his side, facing her.
He closed his eyes, and she just watched him for a while. He was beautiful beyond words, she might never be able to stop staring. She let her fingertips wander down the side of his neck, over his shoulder and biceps.
"REST, Lisbon," he moaned, "are you familiar with the concept?"
She sighed in disappointment, but took her hand away.
It was silent for some minutes.
"If I can't put my tongue down there," she whispered eventually, "can I put it into your mouth?"
He didn't respond for quite a while before he opened his eyes and sighed.
And she did.
When Lisbon woke up, Jane's face was only inches from hers, his arm wrapped around her middle. He looked so calm and peaceful that she just kept staring some more, gently brushing her fingers over his thoroughly disheveled hair.
"Do you want to get up?" She whispered into his ear.
"Hmmmm," he grunted back.
Didn't look like it. She gave him a short kiss on the lips, tousled his hair tenderly and rolled out of bed.
She entered the living room stark naked, which felt strangely glorious. She looked out of the window and suddenly didn't find the huge amount of snow threatening any longer. She was as happy as she'd ever been, and she would enjoy it with every sense she owned.
The whole world looked pure, soft, at peace.
She sighed and turned to walk to the bathroom when her eyes fell on a tiny box under the tree, wrapped in silver paper. She picked it up to take a closer look.
"For Teresa" was written on the paper in Jane's handwriting. She carefully started to unwrap the box. When she opened the lid, she found a golden ring fastened to a delicate golden chain- not long enough to fit around her neck, not short enough for her wrist, so obviously an ankle bracelet. She looked inside the ring and found an engraving: "Yours forever".
Tears sprang to her eyes. They had engraved their gifts with exactly the same promise. Her hands trembled, and the magnitude of it all was as close as it had ever been.
He'd opened the door, let her in. Dared to belong somewhere again, to burden himself with promises and the commitment to her.
Damn, she loved him. More than she'd ever loved anything else.
Jane's arms wrapped around her from behind as he pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder. He was as naked as she was, his hot skin warming her all over.
"I'll put it on your finger once Red John is caught, Teresa. I promise. I love you."
She turned her face to kiss him, and his taste was perfect, as it had been all night when he had woken her up again and again to make love to her, with so much passion as if he'd never had her before. He pushed his tongue into her mouth, igniting her senses into a greedy wildfire, and she felt a gush of arousal wet her thighs despite the fact that she was distinctly sore. She didn't care- she wanted him again, right now, and then again afterwards.
He broke the kiss with a soft smack and released her.
"I'm going to take a hot bath now. Feel free to join me anytime."
She smiled at him. She would, oh, how she would.
She threw a last glance out of the window and felt grateful and alive, her heart bursting with love and the strength to fight through everything that lay ahead, for the sake of Patrick Jane, the man she loved.
She was still scared. But at the same time a warm, all-encompassing peace settled inside her soul.
It was Christmas morning, and she felt at home. She was more grateful than words could say.
She touched the cross she wore around her neck.
And His name shall be called
The Mighty God,
The Everlasting Father,
The Prince of Peace.
See? If I had cut off after his "Because I love you", I would have been the cockblocker of all cockblockers, so I decided to give you the whole thing today. A friend of mine told me to "not let them out of that cabin before they have done it in every position possible"- well… I tried!
My friends, I wish you a WONDERFUL and PEACEFUL Christmas! The aria the last part is taken from out of Händel's "Messiah" has been constantly in my head while I wrote this story, it's my favorite, and I hope the Christmas spirit comes to all of you.
I have written like mad between Christmas and New Year's Eve last year- maybe the same happens this time? See you soon, and: