Fic: Something More Than Memory, Lanie Parish/Maura Isles, NC17
Title: Something More Than Memory
Author: damelola (formerly lauriestein)
Recipient: xdawnfirex
Rating: NC17
Fandom: Crossover (Castle/Rizzoli & Isles)
Pairing: Lanie Parish/Maura Isles
Spoilers: Nothing specific for either series.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, no harm intended. Please, not so much with the suing.
Summary: Two medical examiners, both alike in awesome. When Dr. Isles and Dr. Parish attend a conference in Baltimore, they discover they have more than a job title in common.
"So let me get this straight: after a long day in the morgue, you're left with an expensive bottle of wine, waiting for your workaholic cop best friend to stop not-flirting with some guy at the precinct, and wondering how the hell you ended up single on the wrong side of thirty?"
Maura raises her glass in a mock toast, nodding at the concise summary of her life, decorated and depressing as it is. Lanie purses her lips before refilling her glass, waving at the waiter for a second bottle.
"Is this some kind of phenomenon exclusive to medical examiners? Has anyone written a paper on this? Because I haven't written a paper in months. I never have time to publish, what with the dead bodies and all the chasing around crime scenes to help Jane."
"Jane's your cop friend?"
Maura nods again, because that's nowhere near sufficient as a description of Jane, but if she starts there's no way of knowing when she'll stop. That's a topic she just doesn't have the energy for, not after a long day of talks and seminars on the latest advances (and expensive pieces of equipment) in forensic medicine. They’re glorified sales pitches, these conventions, but Maura jumped at the chance for a change of scenery.
"Kate's just as bad. And don't get me started on this writer guy who's sniffing around her: clueless, both of them. Thank God dating women is easier, or I might finally go crazy." Lanie rolls her eyes at this confession, but a smile is playing itself out on her lips.
The waiter appears with the second bottle of Pinot Noir, and Lanie moves deftly to refill Maura's glass. Dinner is palatable, the fussily presented fare that's standard in these chain hotels. Their plates are spirited away as one of the speakers from the afternoon session tries to catch Maura's eye across the crowded restaurant, but she ducks the eye contact with ease and returns her focus to Lanie. She hopes the guy will give up soon, because his endless glasses of Scotch have left his suit looking rumpled and his toupé crooked.
"Are you staying in Baltimore for the weekend?" Maura asks, because she has a flexible plane ticket and is frankly waiting for a reason to change the early morning return flight.
Lanie smiles across the table, and it's dazzling in the soft light. Maura usually thinks of beauty as an objectively measured set of variables that she, as a scientist, likes to mentally catalog. Funny, but since Lanie sat next to her at the bland lunchtime buffet, Maura's having trouble thinking of any other woman she's seen that day (and there are quite a few, despite the persistence of male dominance in their field. As with everything else, the progress is slow but steady.)
“I haven’t made up my mind.”
There's really no chance of them refusing dessert, and the chocolate soufflés are decadent enough to make any guilt worth it. Another half hour on the treadmill, Maura calculates silently, and it's just another addition to her already crowded mind.
When they've traded war stories, and complained vociferously about budgetary constraints, Maura's even happier when they start discussing less professional matters. They rattle from topic to topic, sweeping through art and fashion as easily as they discussed dissection techniques earlier. With Lanie she doesn’t feel like an alien, doesn’t have to translate every second word into layman’s terms, and it’s liberating to be completely herself without fear of ridicule. She enjoys hearing rarely discussed terms floating back across the table at her with the strong flavor of a New York accent.
It's really just a natural extension of the evening to accept the invitation to Lanie's room, and although Maura knows she's guilty of being obtuse at times, she's well aware of the hints that Lanie's been dropping. While Maura might not technically date women, at least not often and not very successfully, she's quite taken with this woman who actually understands her. Although Lanie is chatty and vivacious, far less crippled by the social arena than Maura often finds herself to be, there's a connection there that goes beyond a shared career experience.
So Maura has no objection when Lanie kisses her once they’re inside the hotel room. The room is comfortable enough, with a few generic splashes of decoration that substitute for a personal touch. Maura doesn't have time to dwell on the décor though, because Lanie is really good at kissing (of course, Maura has devised her own personal scale, on which Lanie scores very highly) and frankly, it's been too long since Maura has felt that amazing tingling feeling sweeping through each of her limbs.
She prides herself on giving every bit as good as she gets, even daring to be a little more aggressive than she might normally on the first time with someone new. She's in Baltimore, not Boston, and nobody has to know anything about tonight except the two women in the room. That privacy is freeing, even as Maura mentally concedes that she’ll end up telling Jane over Chinese food and tasteless beer some night. That's the price of friendship, after all, and Maura thinks she might finally be getting the hang of it.
Thoughts of Jane are far from her mind as Lanie eases the blazer from Maura's shoulders, dropping it gently to the carpeted floor. Her hands are pleasantly cool through the think fabric of Maura's blouse, and the shiver their touch produces is definitely of the pleasant variety.
Maura, in turn, divests Lanie of her simple but smart blue dress, the navy fabric pooling easily at her ankles with the lightest tug at the zipper. Maura realizes they look good together as they tumble towards the bed, Lanie's darker skin contrasting beautifully against her own pale complexion. Lanie kisses a thrilling trail down Maura's neck, seeking out the sensitive spots on her collarbone as though provided with a map. Maura can't help but react, arching into the caress of Lanie's mouth with growing enthusiasm, feeling the wetness between her legs increase with each passing second.
It's not long before Lanie has Maura's skirt slipping down her legs, joining the other discarded clothes somewhere on the floor. Maura murmurs happily as Lanie's fingers massage their way back up her bare legs, especially when they encounter the more sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
"You," Lanie says as she leans in for another quick kiss on the mouth, as though she's missed Maura's lips during her brief absence and can't resist another visit. "Are one gorgeous lady. I guess you know that, I see it in the way you walk. But I think it's worth mentioning."
"You're not so bad yourself, Dr. Parish," is as much wit as Maura can muster in return. What would the rumor mill have to say now, if they could see the 'Queen of the Dead' stripped down to her La Perla, skin flushed and chest heaving with anticipation that Lanie will keep touching her, keeping kissing her. In fact, Maura can't remember the last time she felt this alive, and maybe it takes someone else who understands the realities of working with death to bring it out in her.
Drawing Lanie down into another deep kiss, Maura busies her hands with undoing Lanie's simple black bra. The smooth silk is easily slid out of the way, and Maura tries to contain her excitement at the new but welcome sensation of Lanie's breasts against her palms. Moving on instinct now, her libido finally overwhelming her analytical side, Maura lets Lanie's throaty moans of pleasure guide her. She progresses from gentle stroking of her nipples to more determined flicks that Lanie is very vocal about enjoying. By the time Maura allows her mouth to wander towards one hardened nub, she's confident in her ability to get this right.
With daring that she doesn't always indulge in, Maura flips Lanie onto her back, letting her mouth trail more purposefully across Lanie's flat stomach. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of Lanie's black thong, it's a matter of seconds until the other woman is completely naked in front of Maura. Objectivity be damned, because with her eyes sparkling and lips wet, Lanie looks so completely fuckable that Maura can't think of anyone more gorgeous. This isn't just about loneliness and a chance to spend the night beside another warm body, and Maura's almost giddy to discover just how much she wants this, how much she wants Lanie.
There's a little hesitancy at first, because it really has been a while since Maura tried this on another woman, but she presses determined little kisses along Lanie's hips and the neat patch of dark curls between her legs until she can pluck up her remaining courage. Maura's quickly very glad that she did, because Lanie is so wet already that it's kind of flattering, mirroring the arousal pooling between Maura's own thighs and soaking through the lace of her panties.
The taste is intoxicating, and although her intention is to draw this out for as long as possible, Maura can't resist the stronger swipes of her tongue over Lanie's clit that draw out the greatest reaction. Before long, Lanie's coming against Maura's mouth, her hips jerking slightly in a syncopated rhythm. Pausing for just a second, Maura then slips two fingers inside, stroking Lanie to an even stronger second wave of climax in what feels like just a few moments. Proud of her efforts, Maura withdraws her fingers, licking them clean before kissing her way back up Lanie's still-trembling body.
"Damn, girl." That's about as much as Lanie can express when Maura lies next to her. They kiss, it's soft and leisurely, but Lanie certainly seems to enjoy tasting herself on Maura's tongue. Thankfully for Maura's growing impatience, Lanie doesn't take long to recover.
She draws Maura up to a kneeling position, taking up her place behind her. The pressure of Lanie's breasts against her back is a pleasant one, and Maura finds herself arching into the deft touch of Lanie's fingers as they tease at Maura's nipples. Well aware of how sensitive her breasts can be, Maura knows she's not far from coming as Lanie indulges in rougher treatment, squeezing harder and twisting just enough to make Maura cry out with pleasure.
That's not the only trick at Lanie's disposal though, and she lets her right hands slip down towards Maura's slick and swollen pussy, her fingers slipping under the panties without bothering to remove them. Her movements are strong and direct, seeking out Maura's clit until she's grinding herself hard against Lanie's fingers. Maura doesn't try to hold back any longer, needing to come so badly she thinks for a moment that she might die, but she's crying out and reaching behind her to pull Lanie into an open-mouthed kiss as she climaxes, and it's even better than she'd been hoping.
Not that Lanie stops there. She lets Maura relax in her embrace, kissing the base of Maura's neck before pushing her gently forward on the sheets. Face-down against the crisp white cotton, Maura finds herself grabbing at it as Lanie inserts two, then three fingers inside her, building from slow strokes to a fast thrusting action that has Maura bucking back against her hand. Oblivious to her surroundings, or to anything that isn't the pulse of Lanie fucking her, Maura comes so hard that for a moment she thinks she's going to black out. She holds onto consciousness, her ragged breathing finally beginning to slow as Lanie pulls her into a hug before dragging the comforter over their naked bodies.
"That was--" Maura begins, but Lanie cuts her off with a kiss.
"I know. For me too."
The yawn takes Maura by surprise, but she stifles it as she presses herself against Lanie's warm body.
"Tired," is all she manages to add, before allowing her eyes to slide shut.
*
There's daylight creeping into the room when Maura opens her eyes again, and she finds herself alone in the huge bed. She sits up to find Lanie over by the desk, zipping her suitcase and then slipping on her coat. Fully dressed and made-up, she's a vision even though dawn barely seems to have broken properly.
"Morning," Maura says, breaking the near-silence.
"Hey, I was gonna leave a note," Lanie explains, and Maura can see the note and business card on the bedside table when she looks around. "They paged me, to see if I can come back today. Apparently the other M.E. is giving Kate some trouble. I have to--"
Maura nods her head in understanding. "I know how that goes. No rest for the wicked. Not that I think you're wicked, of course. In fact, you've been very nice to me indeed."
Lanie smiles at the nervous chatter, and she steps across the room to take Maura's hand.
"Call me. Seriously. Come to New York for a weekend and I'll switch my damn pager off."
Maura assures her that she will, although already she hears the future excuses piling up in her head Too much work, Jane needs her to be somewhere, a social engagement to secure funding for the department... but then she catches Lanie's eye and resolves not to let those things get in her way.
"I switched my flight, but I'll head back to Boston after breakfast. Call me if you need a consult?"
Which Maura hopes Lanie will understand is actually an invitation to call her tonight, perhaps to discuss more than work.
Lanie gets it, she thinks, because she smiles and stands to go. It's a shorter journey for her, but Maura understands that need to get going, the buzz of being needed. She's up an dressing as soon as Lanie leaves, slipping back to the elevator and her own room two floors up.
As she showers, conscious of the need to get moving, Maura decides to not place expectations on the situation. It only ever leads to disappointment, as she knows all too well. So, if Lanie calls tonight, then great.; if she doesn't, it was a lovely way to end the conference.
Maura won't admit it, not even in the safety of her own mind, but she's already hoping that this isn't the end.
Author: damelola (formerly lauriestein)
Recipient: xdawnfirex
Rating: NC17
Fandom: Crossover (Castle/Rizzoli & Isles)
Pairing: Lanie Parish/Maura Isles
Spoilers: Nothing specific for either series.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no profit, no harm intended. Please, not so much with the suing.
Summary: Two medical examiners, both alike in awesome. When Dr. Isles and Dr. Parish attend a conference in Baltimore, they discover they have more than a job title in common.
"So let me get this straight: after a long day in the morgue, you're left with an expensive bottle of wine, waiting for your workaholic cop best friend to stop not-flirting with some guy at the precinct, and wondering how the hell you ended up single on the wrong side of thirty?"
Maura raises her glass in a mock toast, nodding at the concise summary of her life, decorated and depressing as it is. Lanie purses her lips before refilling her glass, waving at the waiter for a second bottle.
"Is this some kind of phenomenon exclusive to medical examiners? Has anyone written a paper on this? Because I haven't written a paper in months. I never have time to publish, what with the dead bodies and all the chasing around crime scenes to help Jane."
"Jane's your cop friend?"
Maura nods again, because that's nowhere near sufficient as a description of Jane, but if she starts there's no way of knowing when she'll stop. That's a topic she just doesn't have the energy for, not after a long day of talks and seminars on the latest advances (and expensive pieces of equipment) in forensic medicine. They’re glorified sales pitches, these conventions, but Maura jumped at the chance for a change of scenery.
"Kate's just as bad. And don't get me started on this writer guy who's sniffing around her: clueless, both of them. Thank God dating women is easier, or I might finally go crazy." Lanie rolls her eyes at this confession, but a smile is playing itself out on her lips.
The waiter appears with the second bottle of Pinot Noir, and Lanie moves deftly to refill Maura's glass. Dinner is palatable, the fussily presented fare that's standard in these chain hotels. Their plates are spirited away as one of the speakers from the afternoon session tries to catch Maura's eye across the crowded restaurant, but she ducks the eye contact with ease and returns her focus to Lanie. She hopes the guy will give up soon, because his endless glasses of Scotch have left his suit looking rumpled and his toupé crooked.
"Are you staying in Baltimore for the weekend?" Maura asks, because she has a flexible plane ticket and is frankly waiting for a reason to change the early morning return flight.
Lanie smiles across the table, and it's dazzling in the soft light. Maura usually thinks of beauty as an objectively measured set of variables that she, as a scientist, likes to mentally catalog. Funny, but since Lanie sat next to her at the bland lunchtime buffet, Maura's having trouble thinking of any other woman she's seen that day (and there are quite a few, despite the persistence of male dominance in their field. As with everything else, the progress is slow but steady.)
“I haven’t made up my mind.”
There's really no chance of them refusing dessert, and the chocolate soufflés are decadent enough to make any guilt worth it. Another half hour on the treadmill, Maura calculates silently, and it's just another addition to her already crowded mind.
When they've traded war stories, and complained vociferously about budgetary constraints, Maura's even happier when they start discussing less professional matters. They rattle from topic to topic, sweeping through art and fashion as easily as they discussed dissection techniques earlier. With Lanie she doesn’t feel like an alien, doesn’t have to translate every second word into layman’s terms, and it’s liberating to be completely herself without fear of ridicule. She enjoys hearing rarely discussed terms floating back across the table at her with the strong flavor of a New York accent.
It's really just a natural extension of the evening to accept the invitation to Lanie's room, and although Maura knows she's guilty of being obtuse at times, she's well aware of the hints that Lanie's been dropping. While Maura might not technically date women, at least not often and not very successfully, she's quite taken with this woman who actually understands her. Although Lanie is chatty and vivacious, far less crippled by the social arena than Maura often finds herself to be, there's a connection there that goes beyond a shared career experience.
So Maura has no objection when Lanie kisses her once they’re inside the hotel room. The room is comfortable enough, with a few generic splashes of decoration that substitute for a personal touch. Maura doesn't have time to dwell on the décor though, because Lanie is really good at kissing (of course, Maura has devised her own personal scale, on which Lanie scores very highly) and frankly, it's been too long since Maura has felt that amazing tingling feeling sweeping through each of her limbs.
She prides herself on giving every bit as good as she gets, even daring to be a little more aggressive than she might normally on the first time with someone new. She's in Baltimore, not Boston, and nobody has to know anything about tonight except the two women in the room. That privacy is freeing, even as Maura mentally concedes that she’ll end up telling Jane over Chinese food and tasteless beer some night. That's the price of friendship, after all, and Maura thinks she might finally be getting the hang of it.
Thoughts of Jane are far from her mind as Lanie eases the blazer from Maura's shoulders, dropping it gently to the carpeted floor. Her hands are pleasantly cool through the think fabric of Maura's blouse, and the shiver their touch produces is definitely of the pleasant variety.
Maura, in turn, divests Lanie of her simple but smart blue dress, the navy fabric pooling easily at her ankles with the lightest tug at the zipper. Maura realizes they look good together as they tumble towards the bed, Lanie's darker skin contrasting beautifully against her own pale complexion. Lanie kisses a thrilling trail down Maura's neck, seeking out the sensitive spots on her collarbone as though provided with a map. Maura can't help but react, arching into the caress of Lanie's mouth with growing enthusiasm, feeling the wetness between her legs increase with each passing second.
It's not long before Lanie has Maura's skirt slipping down her legs, joining the other discarded clothes somewhere on the floor. Maura murmurs happily as Lanie's fingers massage their way back up her bare legs, especially when they encounter the more sensitive skin of her inner thighs.
"You," Lanie says as she leans in for another quick kiss on the mouth, as though she's missed Maura's lips during her brief absence and can't resist another visit. "Are one gorgeous lady. I guess you know that, I see it in the way you walk. But I think it's worth mentioning."
"You're not so bad yourself, Dr. Parish," is as much wit as Maura can muster in return. What would the rumor mill have to say now, if they could see the 'Queen of the Dead' stripped down to her La Perla, skin flushed and chest heaving with anticipation that Lanie will keep touching her, keeping kissing her. In fact, Maura can't remember the last time she felt this alive, and maybe it takes someone else who understands the realities of working with death to bring it out in her.
Drawing Lanie down into another deep kiss, Maura busies her hands with undoing Lanie's simple black bra. The smooth silk is easily slid out of the way, and Maura tries to contain her excitement at the new but welcome sensation of Lanie's breasts against her palms. Moving on instinct now, her libido finally overwhelming her analytical side, Maura lets Lanie's throaty moans of pleasure guide her. She progresses from gentle stroking of her nipples to more determined flicks that Lanie is very vocal about enjoying. By the time Maura allows her mouth to wander towards one hardened nub, she's confident in her ability to get this right.
With daring that she doesn't always indulge in, Maura flips Lanie onto her back, letting her mouth trail more purposefully across Lanie's flat stomach. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of Lanie's black thong, it's a matter of seconds until the other woman is completely naked in front of Maura. Objectivity be damned, because with her eyes sparkling and lips wet, Lanie looks so completely fuckable that Maura can't think of anyone more gorgeous. This isn't just about loneliness and a chance to spend the night beside another warm body, and Maura's almost giddy to discover just how much she wants this, how much she wants Lanie.
There's a little hesitancy at first, because it really has been a while since Maura tried this on another woman, but she presses determined little kisses along Lanie's hips and the neat patch of dark curls between her legs until she can pluck up her remaining courage. Maura's quickly very glad that she did, because Lanie is so wet already that it's kind of flattering, mirroring the arousal pooling between Maura's own thighs and soaking through the lace of her panties.
The taste is intoxicating, and although her intention is to draw this out for as long as possible, Maura can't resist the stronger swipes of her tongue over Lanie's clit that draw out the greatest reaction. Before long, Lanie's coming against Maura's mouth, her hips jerking slightly in a syncopated rhythm. Pausing for just a second, Maura then slips two fingers inside, stroking Lanie to an even stronger second wave of climax in what feels like just a few moments. Proud of her efforts, Maura withdraws her fingers, licking them clean before kissing her way back up Lanie's still-trembling body.
"Damn, girl." That's about as much as Lanie can express when Maura lies next to her. They kiss, it's soft and leisurely, but Lanie certainly seems to enjoy tasting herself on Maura's tongue. Thankfully for Maura's growing impatience, Lanie doesn't take long to recover.
She draws Maura up to a kneeling position, taking up her place behind her. The pressure of Lanie's breasts against her back is a pleasant one, and Maura finds herself arching into the deft touch of Lanie's fingers as they tease at Maura's nipples. Well aware of how sensitive her breasts can be, Maura knows she's not far from coming as Lanie indulges in rougher treatment, squeezing harder and twisting just enough to make Maura cry out with pleasure.
That's not the only trick at Lanie's disposal though, and she lets her right hands slip down towards Maura's slick and swollen pussy, her fingers slipping under the panties without bothering to remove them. Her movements are strong and direct, seeking out Maura's clit until she's grinding herself hard against Lanie's fingers. Maura doesn't try to hold back any longer, needing to come so badly she thinks for a moment that she might die, but she's crying out and reaching behind her to pull Lanie into an open-mouthed kiss as she climaxes, and it's even better than she'd been hoping.
Not that Lanie stops there. She lets Maura relax in her embrace, kissing the base of Maura's neck before pushing her gently forward on the sheets. Face-down against the crisp white cotton, Maura finds herself grabbing at it as Lanie inserts two, then three fingers inside her, building from slow strokes to a fast thrusting action that has Maura bucking back against her hand. Oblivious to her surroundings, or to anything that isn't the pulse of Lanie fucking her, Maura comes so hard that for a moment she thinks she's going to black out. She holds onto consciousness, her ragged breathing finally beginning to slow as Lanie pulls her into a hug before dragging the comforter over their naked bodies.
"That was--" Maura begins, but Lanie cuts her off with a kiss.
"I know. For me too."
The yawn takes Maura by surprise, but she stifles it as she presses herself against Lanie's warm body.
"Tired," is all she manages to add, before allowing her eyes to slide shut.
*
There's daylight creeping into the room when Maura opens her eyes again, and she finds herself alone in the huge bed. She sits up to find Lanie over by the desk, zipping her suitcase and then slipping on her coat. Fully dressed and made-up, she's a vision even though dawn barely seems to have broken properly.
"Morning," Maura says, breaking the near-silence.
"Hey, I was gonna leave a note," Lanie explains, and Maura can see the note and business card on the bedside table when she looks around. "They paged me, to see if I can come back today. Apparently the other M.E. is giving Kate some trouble. I have to--"
Maura nods her head in understanding. "I know how that goes. No rest for the wicked. Not that I think you're wicked, of course. In fact, you've been very nice to me indeed."
Lanie smiles at the nervous chatter, and she steps across the room to take Maura's hand.
"Call me. Seriously. Come to New York for a weekend and I'll switch my damn pager off."
Maura assures her that she will, although already she hears the future excuses piling up in her head Too much work, Jane needs her to be somewhere, a social engagement to secure funding for the department... but then she catches Lanie's eye and resolves not to let those things get in her way.
"I switched my flight, but I'll head back to Boston after breakfast. Call me if you need a consult?"
Which Maura hopes Lanie will understand is actually an invitation to call her tonight, perhaps to discuss more than work.
Lanie gets it, she thinks, because she smiles and stands to go. It's a shorter journey for her, but Maura understands that need to get going, the buzz of being needed. She's up an dressing as soon as Lanie leaves, slipping back to the elevator and her own room two floors up.
As she showers, conscious of the need to get moving, Maura decides to not place expectations on the situation. It only ever leads to disappointment, as she knows all too well. So, if Lanie calls tonight, then great.; if she doesn't, it was a lovely way to end the conference.
Maura won't admit it, not even in the safety of her own mind, but she's already hoping that this isn't the end.