fic: the mentalist, lisbon/jane, r.
True story: I sat down to procrastinate and write this story and then two Mormons ring my doorbell to talk all this Jesus business and put me off my smut-ish fic writing mood. So blame them if this sucks. Also note I'm not too pro at writing smut.
and static prevails
the mentalist, lisbon/jane, ~500 words, r. bruno heller etc own, no copyright infringement intended. no spoilers.
It didn't happen. It wouldn't happen. It won't.
But if it had, here's how it would've happened, because Patrick Jane knows there's a whole world out there that runs on fantasy. People always want more than what they have. People always desire the impossible.
*
It starts out just a drink after work, only shortly after meeting her for the first time. Teresa Lisbon is short, confident and capable and sceptical, so sceptical, but she says yes to him anyway. It's perfectly innocent until he catches himself flirting and catches her responding, her cheeks blushing just the slightest, as she explains. "I don't, normally.."
He catches her wrist, her pulse is racing but she doesn't appear vulnerable. Just beautiful.
"It's okay, agent Lisbon," he tells her. "You can trust me."
She gives her a look of disbelief because he shouldn't read her as well as he can; a common first reaction. And even then, with her hand in his, her thumb stroking her wrist, she's holding back, shielded and careful, and that's when he decides he wants to do this. Peel back those layers of armor that surround her.
"You're a strange one," she says, pulling her hand back and that's when he leans in to whisper into her ear, the subtlest of invitations because if he was any less vague, she'd take offence. And hurt him, physically.
"Please?" he finishes and everything about the way she's looking at him is saying yes.
"No," she replies.
Right.
*
The next day, he learns something about her. If she's going to do this, it's going to be on her terms. Her way. Her decision. Her office, her hands on his chest, pushing him and then pulling, her mouth on his as his jacket falls off his shoulders.
She needs this, he figures, because otherwise it's too intimate, too close. She needs the control. She won't even let his hands undress her, groaning at his lingering, teasing touches (and not just out of frustration of the sexual kind) and directing him like a puppet, putting his hand here and there and guiding his motions even when he's on top. She's efficient, working at him like he's a time table, and she's good, her naked petite form lying back on her jacket on the desk, pulling him against her. It's good, just not how he would do it. This could be really unsatisfying, the thought crosses his mind, and so he leans in to nibble on her ear.
"This doesn't have to be a game, agent Lisbon," he says, and it catches her off-guard.
She stills beneath him, her fingers untangling from his hair, and looks at him. "Get off me, Jane."
He's mortified for a moment, but she directs him again, pushing him down, climbing on top, grinning.
His hands settle on her hips as she begins moving and maybe one day he'll get her to let go, but for now this is good. She needs the control. He's willing to give it to her.
--
Author's note: Oh god why must Jane be so married in my head - and in canon, to be fair - it makes ficcing problematic. Sigh.
and static prevails
the mentalist, lisbon/jane, ~500 words, r. bruno heller etc own, no copyright infringement intended. no spoilers.
It didn't happen. It wouldn't happen. It won't.
But if it had, here's how it would've happened, because Patrick Jane knows there's a whole world out there that runs on fantasy. People always want more than what they have. People always desire the impossible.
*
It starts out just a drink after work, only shortly after meeting her for the first time. Teresa Lisbon is short, confident and capable and sceptical, so sceptical, but she says yes to him anyway. It's perfectly innocent until he catches himself flirting and catches her responding, her cheeks blushing just the slightest, as she explains. "I don't, normally.."
He catches her wrist, her pulse is racing but she doesn't appear vulnerable. Just beautiful.
"It's okay, agent Lisbon," he tells her. "You can trust me."
She gives her a look of disbelief because he shouldn't read her as well as he can; a common first reaction. And even then, with her hand in his, her thumb stroking her wrist, she's holding back, shielded and careful, and that's when he decides he wants to do this. Peel back those layers of armor that surround her.
"You're a strange one," she says, pulling her hand back and that's when he leans in to whisper into her ear, the subtlest of invitations because if he was any less vague, she'd take offence. And hurt him, physically.
"Please?" he finishes and everything about the way she's looking at him is saying yes.
"No," she replies.
Right.
*
The next day, he learns something about her. If she's going to do this, it's going to be on her terms. Her way. Her decision. Her office, her hands on his chest, pushing him and then pulling, her mouth on his as his jacket falls off his shoulders.
She needs this, he figures, because otherwise it's too intimate, too close. She needs the control. She won't even let his hands undress her, groaning at his lingering, teasing touches (and not just out of frustration of the sexual kind) and directing him like a puppet, putting his hand here and there and guiding his motions even when he's on top. She's efficient, working at him like he's a time table, and she's good, her naked petite form lying back on her jacket on the desk, pulling him against her. It's good, just not how he would do it. This could be really unsatisfying, the thought crosses his mind, and so he leans in to nibble on her ear.
"This doesn't have to be a game, agent Lisbon," he says, and it catches her off-guard.
She stills beneath him, her fingers untangling from his hair, and looks at him. "Get off me, Jane."
He's mortified for a moment, but she directs him again, pushing him down, climbing on top, grinning.
His hands settle on her hips as she begins moving and maybe one day he'll get her to let go, but for now this is good. She needs the control. He's willing to give it to her.
--
Author's note: Oh god why must Jane be so married in my head - and in canon, to be fair - it makes ficcing problematic. Sigh.