texts and subtext [1/?]
rating: very m. TW: bondage.
summary: first in a bunch of oneshots based off of the TFLN tumblrs (Texts from last night). First update: Jane, Maura, handcuffs, and a dresser. It's exactly what you think.
[beer and paperwork]
Okay, so committed relationships are a lot of work. Even when the person you're in a relationship is someone like Maura Isles. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. Not in the least. It's just that when you're in a relationship with someone you also work with every day, and when your job is really exhausting (and believe me, there is a homicide season).. sex falls to the wayside. And so it has. And yeah, I miss it, and yeah, I'm too conscious of Maura's feelings to bring it up. She's more sensitive than I am, and I figured out early on that it's important to her that our relationship is about more than just sex. And it is- I love her, I've always loved her. I could wax poetic for hours about the light in her eyes and the way she says my name, but...sex isn't just sex. It has always been stellar with Maura, and this dry spell is really, really difficult. Especially because I wake up with her next to me or in my arms. As in, the whole tempting, curvy, warm and breathing expanse of her. It's hard to keep things PG, but I do it. I do it for her, because I love her...and if that's not love, I don't know what is.
So the day ends and I lean back in my chair and push my hands through tangled hair, letting out a sighing yawn. It's late, almost 7, and this case isn't getting any easier. As always there's a part of me that wants to spend the rest of my night working the kinks out...I'm not going to do that on a Friday night I could go out with Maura.
Speaking of kinks, my phone buzzes with a text from Maura that catches me entirely by surprise and confuses me as much as it excites me. We're going to need a safe word tonight. I laugh to myself and shake my head at her, tapping out a quick reply: how about handcuffs? But she tells me, vaguely (although I guess everything over text is a little vague), that won't work, so I have to think of something else. Paperwork. I can imagine the smile that probably gets, and the vision of that smile makes me smile. Okay, paperwork for stop. For go? I'm not sure I like the way this is going yet, but I trust her, so... Beer. That gets another smile, I'm sure. Or maybe not- her reply is curt. Come home.
So I do.
I get home in record time and the second I found the corner into the living room and shrug out of my blazer I know something's up. After a moment of hesitation I decide I might as well meet my fate and go into the bedroom. I never pegged Maura for the kinky type- the safe word type- but she likes hypotheses and experiments and safe word means that one or both of us will at some point be naked, and the pull of that idea overpowers my trepidation. Maura can do anything she wants to me. That thought is barely through my head before I'm through the doorway, and there stands Maura Isles in all her full-breasted, bare-legged glory.
"Jesus," it escapes me before I can even think it. She's wearing something thin and silky that verges on transparent, just enough that I can see the the faint shadow of skin beneath it. Her hair is down. She's wearing silk underwear parading as a pair of very tiny shorts, which means I can follow the line of her shapely legs from the arch of her foot all the way up. And I do just that. By the time I get to her face she's in full-smirk mode and my knees feel like jello.
"What," I joke, although weakly, "no leather?" she laughs soft and low and god I need to be inside her ASAP. "Tell me our safe words." I do. She could ask me to stand on my head and at this point I'd do it without question. "What, you gonna make me your love slave or something?" The jokes keep coming; I can't stop myself. "Because you know, you don't need safe words for that. It would always be beer." She shakes her head, stepping close and starting on my button-down. "Not quite." She looks up at me and her eyes are greener than I've ever seen them, bright and open. "Do you trust me?" she asks, and I want to kiss that question away. "Of course," I opt for instead.
Her hands slip inside the halves of my shirt and I can feel her scrape her fingernails over my ribs. I sigh and dip my head to press my forehead to hers, my hands going to her waist. My fingers find the material first, but it's no match for her skin. I don't get to touch for very long, though, because as soon as the shirt is over my shoulders and on the floor she pulls back to unbuckle my belt and push the slacks off my hips. I step out of them like the good girlfriend I am and she steps back again, just out of reach, toward the bed. I follow her because goddammit I want to touch her, but then I realize my back is to the dresser, and before I can circle around her Maura's pushing my wrists gently back into the wood. "Wait, I want-"
Click.
I'd know that sound anywhere. And I'd know the metal around my wrists anywhere. Oh. "Guess this is why 'handcuffs' didn't work." But at least my mouth still does. Kind of. Maura ignores me and steps back to admire her handiwork. It hits me again that I'm chained to my dresser in my underwear. Which means that all that skin Maura's showing? I can't touch it. Any of it.
That might literally kill me. "Maura..." she just looks me up and down again and then, honest to God- she licks her lips. Something like a shock goes down my spine and I swallow hard, knowing somehow that she's not going to let me go any time soon. "Give me a word," she says, and her voice is so breathy, sowanting, that I don't have much of a choice. "Beer." She smiles, but her eyes are still not on my face. "What are you gonna do to me?" I'm not sure I want to know, actually, but it's okay because she's not going to tell me anyway. Instead she takes a few steps so that we're only a few inches apart. Which is torturous because I could swear I can feel the heat radiating from her skin.
"It's been too long," she says. I agree, but silently. She clearly has more to say. "I love looking at you," she admits, and another shock goes down my spine. Heat starts to prickle along my skin wherever her eyes cast. Her fingertips touch my right palm, then skitter over my wrist, my inner arm. "You never stay still long enough for me to look at you properly," she admonishes, but there's no sternness in her tone. She's distracted. Affectionate. She trails her instruments of torture along the inside of my arm to my bicep, where she lingers for a moment, before continuing to my shoulder. "Your musculature is so," she sighs, almost dreamily, "textbook."
Before I can decide whether or not to be insulted by that, her fingers are moving from my shoulder to my breastbone. There's a mole there- the one she called 'convenient' on our first night together- and I can see she's remembering that night, too, from the way her smile changes to something softer. I swallow and her fingers trail over my throat to my other shoulder and along my left arm. She links her fingers with mine and closes the space between us for a moment to kiss me. I take as much advantage as I can (which is not much) and kiss her with as much passion as I can (which is one hell of a lot) until she pulls away. Even then, my eyes follow her lips. She's all I want. I don't know why exactly she wants me cuffed like this, but if I get that at the end of this night...maybe I can handle it.
And then she kneels in front of me and that thought changes to Oh my God I can't do this faster than the speed of light. Her hands run up my legs and I shiver and goosebump and make some sort of pathetic noise in the back of my throat. I'm biting my lip to keep from making that noise out loud. She kisses just above each of my knees and her hands creep up the backs of my thighs and I'm shaking a little with the wait. She pauses and looks up, just to piss me off, but I'm actually too turned on to be pissed. Then she hooks her fingers into the sides of my underwear and tugs them down, and barely a second after I've kicked them away, my leg is over her shoulder. She kisses the inside of my thigh and I swallow again and bite my lip hard enough to hurt. "I need a word," she says. As if it could be anything than what it is. I tell her 'beer' breathlessly and then she makes contact and my head slams involuntarily back into the dresser.
It's loud. And it hurts. And Maura stops what she was doing and stands up, cradling my head in her hands with a concerned look on her face. "Are you okay? You have to be careful, Jane."
I groan. "Maura, I'm fine- I'm not fine- I...please just do what you were doing." But Maura has other ideas.
She kisses me, then kisses a line along my jaw, down my neck. Along the way her teeth scrape my skin, making me shudder and groan softly as she soothes the skin with her tongue before moving on. Before long, but after what feels like hours later, her lips ghost across my chest, she pushes the cups of my bra up, and I almost choke on another moan. She's not touching me enough yet. I think that sentence over and over until her mouth, warm and wet, envelopes me where I've been wanting her for the past two minutes. I jerk forward and the metal cuffs dig into my hands as I try to keep her close to me, close to my chest, but I achieve the opposite. She pulls away and she looks up again. This time her eyes are darker, glassier, and if I look carefully enough I can see that she's just as turned on as I am. Her pulse is racing, a blush has risen in her neck and cheeks, and when she presses agains me and kisses me again I can feel that her nipples are hard beneath the silk of her shirt. All I want is to be able to take her in my arms, and I go to do it before I remember the cuffs, so my arms are cut short and the dresser shudders behind me.
"Give me a word," Maura breathes against the side of my mouth. I close my eyes, ready to admit defeat, ready to give up if that means I can just fucking touchher. "Paperwork," I growl. "Really?" She sounds...amused. She sounds like she's surprised I only lasted this long. And even though I know better, there's a large part of me that refuses to disappoint, that refuses to be anything but extraordinary for her. "No, not really. But you should know that payback is a-"
Her teeth find my earlobe and I jerk forward again, wrists aching, "-bitch."
"It'll be well worth it," she whispers, her hands gliding from my hips up my sides. "You have to uncuff me eventually," I realize, suddenly smiling, "or you won't be able to get my bra off without completely destroying it." Just when I think I've found a loophole, Maura chuckles and I realize how wrong I am. She's thought of everything- how could she not? She reaches into the top drawer of the night table and cuts the straps of my bra with a scissor without hesitation. "You have plenty of bras. I'll buy you another one."
"I don't care," I tell her honestly. Her hands cover the skin she's just exposed, teasing me with persistent fingers, caressing and pulling and not giving me nearly enough. My hips push forward against hers, craving the contact, and she lets me have it. Not for long- just for a moment, and then she pulls her hips away. Since I can't touch her, I decide on another tactic.
"You get off on this, huh?"
Her eyes flicker up to mine and her lips twitch as she tries to decide what she wants to say. I don't give her the time, speaking again as I try to ignore what she's doing to me and how it makes me feel. "Tying me up. Having complete control over everything I do." She smiles and tilts her head, trying valiantly to hide how much I've just turned her on. But I know her too well. "I wouldn't say that I 'get off' on it," she temporizes, slipping her hand between my legs, which part without urging. Finally- mercifully- she dips her fingers inside and this time when my head hits the dresser I'm more careful. "But it is arousing."
Okay, I know when to admit I've been beaten. I shut my goddamn mouth and let her do her thing. The problem is...she doesn't. She waits until I'm close, until my hands are clenching into fists and I'm panting and sweating, and then she withdraws, leaving me on the edge. She does this twice. By the second time I feel like I'm going to pass out and my knees have given so that I'm leaning all my weight against the dresser. "What do you want?" Maura asks. I can hear the smile in her voice. "I want," I have to swallow twice before my mouth is wet enough again for me to speak properly, "I want to get out of these damn cuffs and-" clearly this is the wrong answer because Maura presses her hand against me and then takes a full step away from me. "-jesus."
The thought is just occurring to me that I really really need to find some way to get some of my sanity back when she takes another step back, sits on the bed and then oh is this what it feels like to die?
She leans back and looks me right in the eye. "Was there an end to that sentence?" she asks, but I'm too busy looking at her legs, too busy watching her hand that starts between her breasts and slides over her own abdomen before it slips into her panties. I nod. And then I shake my head. My entire body is on fire with wanting and I strain against the cuffs with this newfound burst of energy and need. The dresser barely budges at all, just shudders. Something that was on it falls off. Her eyes fall closed and I need her- need to tell her how I need her, how I need to feel her heat around my fingers and her body pressed against mine and her lips against my lips, but mostly the first part. Before I can form a coherent sentence, she breaks me completely.
"Jane-"
That's it. My name falling from her lips like honey and I'm done. "Please!" I'm leaning as far forward as I can and my wrists are going to be so bruised tomorrow it's not even funny. Her eyes snap open and her lips are parted and I want her- "I want you. Please. Please, Maura. Let me...just let me."
But she's not giving up yet. Her lips close and her hand stills, but she doesn't remove it. "Let you what?"
I'm beaten. If she asked for a word I'd say 'paperwork' again and again until I couldn't say it anymore. "Let me touch you." My voice is ragged and I can see that it has an effect on her. Her eyes soften and she takes her hand back, sitting up straight. "I just want to touch you. God, Maura...please."
It does the trick. I'm at my breaking point and she unlocks the cuffs. I wait, somehow, until they're both unlocked, and then my arms are around her and my lips are on hers. All the breath is knocked out of me when our mouths open in tandem and she doesn't have time to pull me forward before I have her pinned to the bed. I don't have the patience for payback yet, but she'll get it eventually. For now I just need to touch her.
I push her back to the bed and she goes without a fight, pulling me down with her by the shoulders when she falls back onto the sheets. Our kisses are desperate and sloppy, our hands frantic. It's almost like she had been the one tied up, the way she's touching, caressing, clutching at me like if she doesn't she'll drown. I have no problem with that- I don't waste time. I straddle one of her legs and she immediately rocks up against me. My head falls to her shoulder and I follow the movement of her hips with the movement of my own. The hand that's not propping me up slips between her legs to find her so hot and slick andready that it draws a groan from me at the same time that her nails dig into my shoulders and her hips come up, hard, into mine. We fall into an instant and well-remembered rhythm. My hips press down, hers come up, my hand moves inside her, her lips move senselessly against my neck.
Sooner rather than later, she's murmuring my name, her hips coming faster against me. I could tease her-make her wait like she made me wait- but I won't. I twist my hand just right, press my thumb into her where I know it'll set her off, and just like that he's clenching around my hand, panting against my ear, and bucking up against me with my name on her lips. My other arm goes tightly around her and I press my lips to her temple. She shudders, again and again, and I wait until her breathing is almost normal before taking my hand away and rolling off of her.
"I think," she sighs, rolling onto her side and looking me over, "that did more for you than it did for me." I laugh even though I'm still aching for her and only satisfied for now because she just came apart in my arms and there's nothing better in the world. "No," I disagree, rubbing my wrists, "you are totally hot for bondage. You're a sadist."
She corrects my pronunciation and I reach over to smack her on the ass for being snarky with me, which only ends in her straddling my hips and kissing me into breathlessness. At some point she moves from straddling my hips to straddling my leg, but I can hardly tell because I'm too distracted by the way she's kissing me and the hand that is slowly but steadily working its way down my body. This time she doesn't tease me. She knows what I want- we've been doing this long enough now that she knows exactly how to push me over the edge as quickly as possible. My whole body feels like it's on fire. I can't get enough air into my lungs to combat it, so I give up trying and I cling to her, my hands tight on her hips, my hips coming forward against her hand again and again as I lose all composure. I hear myself half-sob her name as if I'm miles away, but the feeling of her wrapped around me is as close as ever.
I'm still trying to catch my breath when she shifts so that all her weight is resting against me. This is the part I love the most about being in a relationship as long as we've been in one (five months and counting)- we're comfortable. She's not afraid she's going to crush me. She trusts me. And I love the smooth, warm weight of her holding me down and the way her eyelashes flutter as she fights to stay awake. After an indeterminate amount of time where I just kind of stare at her like that, my hand running over her back and our breathing falling into sync, I reach over and drag the comforter over us both. She smiles and sleepily presses her lips to my throat. My arm tightens around her waist and I breathe in the smell of her shampoo and her skin.
.,.
What I'm trying to say is, my fingers skip over the buttons as I hesitate, unsure of how to word this. It's been a few days. My wrists are still sore, that time you chained me to my dresser and made me beg for it was incredibly romantic.