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The first time they make love is the night after Hoyt dies. Maura needs to feel safe and Jane needs to know that she’s alive. They fall together like raindrops on roses and Maura didn’t know it was possible to orgasm nine times in one night, so she decides to continue whatever they’ve started in the name of science. Jane doesn’t complain. She might not know what lines they’ve crossed, but she likes the way Maura says her name, and as long as no one finds out, no one will get hurt.
That’s the one rule Jane has: no one knows. It isn’t a rule created from shame or homophobia, it’s her way of protecting Maura the only way she knows how—by making it look like the beautiful blonde doctor hasn’t gotten too close. “I can’t let someone use you to get to me again, Maur,” Jane tells her as they lay cuddled on Maura’s mattress some time between dusk and dawn, “They’d kill you. I couldn’t live with your blood on my hands.”
The rouse fails to protect her more times than it succeeds, but even with a one-out-of-ten success rate, Jane refuses to come clean. It may not be enough, but it’s something. Then she has to shoot Paddy Doyle and everything she and Maura may have had falls apart. It shatters like broken glass and Jane cuts herself to the bone trying to put the pieces back together.
They are, first and foremost, friends. This is something Maura has had to tell herself on numerous occasions. Occasions like when Jane decides to start dating again, seeing men that aren’t worth her time because even though she and Maura are friends again, they’re afraid of taking the plunge and becoming more. Occasions like when Jane offers comfort because Hope is a failure in a thousand different ways and Maura deserves better than a father who never claimed her and a mother who never knew her. Occasions like when Casey appears and disappears from Jane’s life like a revolving door, moving in and out like a tornado and leaving destruction in his wake. Maura takes a deep breath on each of these occasions, presses her skirt down firmly on the wrinkles that aren’t there, and shakes off whatever words she’s got resting on the tip of her tongue.
She may not be able to lie, but she’s learning how to keep her mouth shut.
Tonight, she doesn’t want to keep her mouth shut or play the game by the rules Jane has imposed. She’s the daughter of a mob boss and a woman who broke all the rules, perhaps that gives her a free pass to cross the line. Besides, what’s the worst that could possibly happen? Her father’s going to prison, she’s already seen the inside of a jail cell, and her mother doesn’t understand the difference between right and wrong. Being denied by a potential lover is far from the worst of impending consequences in her life.
She thinks about the possibility of losing Jane, but writes that off as something completely unimaginable. Jane may refuse to follow Maura to bed, but they’ll still be friends in the morning, regardless of how this turns out. Jane is the one thing Maura of which Maura has always been sure. So she steals a sweet potato fry from Jane’s plate and smiles as she eats it.
“Let’s go back to my place for dessert,” she suggests. Jane’s eyebrows arch teasingly, and even though that isn’t what Maura meant, she’s going to go with it. “I have some home churn ice cream that my mother dropped off the last time she visited from Lancaster. And your mother’s away for the weekend.”
Jane lowers her voice and looks Maura dead in the eyes, “That sounds better than whatever grass-flavored pastry they’ll make us here.” There are other words with other meanings dancing in her eyes, but Maura decides not to read too far in to that. Even with Jane, she’s never been good at nonverbal communication.
Maura pays the check and Jane holds the door open for her as they leave the restaurant. Both of their cars are parked in the parking lot, so Maura follows Jane home. They both park in the driveway and Jane carries in the doggiebags. She’ll feed some of the veggie burger to Jo Friday for breakfast tomorrow. The poor mutt doesn’t eat as well as she probably should, but then again, neither does Jane.
They make it through the door before Maura builds up the courage to say what she wants. “I don’t want ice cream for dessert, Jane.”
Jane looks up from the fridge where she’s just deposited the doogiebags. “You have cake in here, too. If you want that instead.”
“No,” Maura steps out of her shoes and smiles. “Not cake.” She starts to unbutton her blouse, starting with the top buttons. Jane turns around just in time to see her finish at the bottom.
For a moment, there is silence, and Maura thinks she should have thought this through better. She never guesses, but a part of her had been sure that Jane would respond to her advances in a positive manner. “Oh,” is all the detective can get out. Her brown eyes roam from Maura’s exposed skin to her face before anymore words are spoken.
“Sorry,” Maura replies, pulling the blouse together, “I thought you would be interested tonight.” She turns her body slightly away, facing the living room. She doesn’t take her eyes off Jane.
Jane moves towards her automatically, her hands reaching out and grabbing hold of Maura’s. She smirks when she says, “I thought you didn’t like to be hugged when you’re very upset.”
Maura looks up at Jane through heavy eyelids, “I’m not asking for you to hug me.”
Maura Isles is a forward person. She doesn’t understand the concept of playing coy or sugarcoating her desires. Right now, she wants the type of sex that will leave her feeling boneless and filled up completely. There are plenty of men who would be willing to try to meet her needs, but she learned three years ago that there’s only one person on earth capable of actually meeting them. She folds herself into Jane’s arms instinctually, allowing her blouse to open again and reveal the lacey white bra she’s wearing underneath.
“You’re wearing my favorite bra, Maur,” Jane says, as though the observation is supposed to surprise Maura. When the blonde simply smiles, understanding dawns on Jane’s features, and she pulls back to study Maura’s face. “You planned this.”
Maura shrugs, “I knew today would be stressful, and that sexual intercourse is usually better when the two partners have both experienced high levels of Norepinephrine throughout the day. I was hoping you could help me rebalance my metabolic equilibrium through stimulating my parasympathetic nervous system.” She reverts to medical terminology when she’s nervous. Jane silences her with a kiss.
Kissing Jane is different from kissing anyone else. She’s kissed women before. Anyone who claims they didn’t have a lesbian experience during their college years clearly doesn’t understand the importance of accepting and exploring his or her own sexuality. Maura likes women, sometimes more than she likes men, and she’s had her fair share over the years. However, no one has ever made her completely melt into their touch the way she melts into Jane’s mouth and falls into Jane’s touch.
Jane pushes Maura backwards towards the door and Maura moves so that she’s leaning up against it. “You are so beautiful,” Jane tells her, moving her mouth from Maura’s lips to her neck, sucking the supple flesh there into her mouth. “So fucking beautiful.” Maura rolls her head back to expose more of her neck. She’s always been unnaturally sensitive along her neck and collarbone, and Jane caught on to the sensitivity quickly.
Jane’s hands move to take off Maura’s blouse, and Maura lifts her hands up over her head in order to help. Jane pins her hands there, moving her mouth down over Maura’s left breast. With her free hand, Jane unsnaps Maura’s bra and pulls it down so it hangs awkwardly at her elbows. Neither woman cares, as Jane’s mouth finds Maura’s right nipple and begins to suck it to hardness.
Maura moans in pleasure at the contact and arches her chest up into Jane’s mouth. The response encourages the brunette to move to the other nipple, while she uses her hand to roll the right one back and forth. The sensation elicits another moan, followed by a breathy, “Jane.”
That’s all it takes.
Jane drops Maura’s hands and Maura slides out of her bra. Moving her hands from Maura’s nipples down her stomach, Jane reaches around back and fights with the zipper of the skirt for a moment before she decides that’s a fight she doesn’t have to win. Instead, she bunches Maura’s skirt up around the blonde’s hips and falls to her knees in front of her. She hooks her fingers inside the matching white thong and pulls it down quickly, allowing it to join the pile of Maura’s clothing pooling at her feet.
Jane breathes in deeply as Maura’s hand nestles in her hair. Her nose is buried in the juncture between Maura’s thighs and her tongue darts out to taste what Jane’s been denying it for almost two years. Jane moans at the taste and the vibration makes Maura’s knees shake. Jane pushes her lover back against the door with her hands and keeps her balance by pressing against the hips as she dips her head back down to take another taste. When Maura bucks her hips forward, Jane’s tongue starts to lap at Maura’s clit in broad, determine strokes.
“Jane,” Maura moans again, this time with purpose. Jane leans back and looks Maura in the eyes. “Jane, I need you inside me.”
Jane nods and removes her right hand from Maura’s hip while also moving out of a crouch in order to kneel before the blonde. She teases Maura’s entrance with one finger, and when that’s easily accepted, she pushes two in and smirks at how eagerly Maura’s body pulls her into it. “You’re wet,” she observes, more to herself than to Maura.
Maura replies anyway. “You have that effect on me.” Jane nods and continues to move her fingers in and out of Maura’s body, adding her mouth to the mix as she licks her lover’s clit. The rhythm never starts slow with them, but it speeds up regardless, Maura grinding down into Jane’s mouth while Jane’s fingers thrust up inside of Maura. Just as Maura gets close, Jane removes her fingers and Maura wraps her left leg around Jane’s shoulder, giving her better access to Maura’s body. Jane buries her mouth against the blonde’s clit, swallowing down the orgasm as it wrecks Maura’s body.
“God,” Maura says, after a moment. Jane looks up at her as the blonde runs a hand through her hair to smooth out the tresses that are now soaked with sweat. “You’re brilliant.”
“So I’ve been told,” Jane smirks. She lays back spreads her feet out before her. Maura unzips her skirt so she’s completely naked and then crawls between Jane’s legs. Hovering over Jane, she opens Jane’s pants and pulls them down first, followed by a pair of boy shorts. When Maura rolls her eyes at the black cotton, Jane rises up on her elbows and says, “I had to wear a skirt all day yesterday. I wanted at least some sort of comfort.”
“Fine,” Maura relents, pulling the boy shorts all the way down Jane’s long, muscular legs. She settles herself so that her hand can work its way between Jane’s thighs while her lips can meet Jane’s in a heated kiss.
Her hand stays still for a moment against Jane’s wet core, teasing Jane into asking for it. For a moment, the detective seems determined not to give in. But then Maura kisses her and allows her tongue to trace the outline of Jane’s lips, and before she can stop herself a raspy voice is demanding, “Maura, touch me.”
Like always, Maura obeys.
Getting Jane off is perhaps Maura’s favorite thing in the world to do. It’s more fulfilling than getting published, more mind-blowing than a new medical discovery, and more beautiful than Prague in the summer time. She loves the way Jane follows Maura’s rhythm instead of setting her own, which has to be subconscious, because Jane is always dominant in bed, regardless of her lover’s gender. She loves the way Jane’s entire body tightens right before the orgasm hits, like a loaded gun cocked and ready to be fired. When Jane cums, it’s with a scream. Maura doesn’t both to muffle Jane’s cry.
They lay in silence for a moment, Maura’s head resting on Jane’s chest. She’ll never understand how every time they have sex, Jane somehow manages to stay relatively clothed while she always ends up naked. It probably has to do with her exhibitionist tendencies. Either way, she’s itching to touch Jane’s skin, so she pulls the blouse up and touches Jane’s stomach. The muscles there are tone and strong. Maura’s hand relaxes on them as she listens to Jane’s heartbeat.
“So where does this leave us now?” Jane asks, after another moment. The words are said reluctantly, as though Jane doesn’t actually want to ask the question, but she knows it needs to be addressed.
Maura tilts her head up and off Jane’s chest, so that she’s leaning awkwardly on her elbow and trying not to put too much weight on the hand that’s resting on Jane’s stomach. “Casey’s coming back,” Maura says, after a moment, “I assume you want to stay with him.”
Jane laughs, “Maur. I’m much more with you than I was ever with him.”
The truth of that statement doesn’t increase just because Jane says it out loud, but somehow Maura draws strength from the sound of Jane’s voice. “So be with me.”
It’s a suggestion and a plea. It makes Maura feel more vulnerable than anything else that’s happened in the last forty-eight hours, which is considerable, when one thinks of the circumstances. Jane looks at Maura, studies her face, and then finally says, “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Maura nods, because she was expecting as much. She pushes herself into a seated position, so that she’s no longer touching Jane, and says, “Will you try?”
“Yes,” Jane replies, without hesitation. She rocks back and then rolls up so that she’s sitting facing Maura. “I’ll try.”
It isn’t enough to drive thoughts of Paddy and Hope from her mind. She still feels guilty and sad and broke inside. But the way Jane is smiling at her makes her see the silver lining along the outside of the cumulus cloud. She can feel the storm coming in to cause destruction, but she can also anticipate the way it’s going to wash her clean.