a/n: thanks for all the reviews! I'll admit I know shit nothing about hormones and body parts and all that crap; I'm more of a Rizzoli than an Isles and I always appreciate input from someone who actually knows what they're talking about. Hope this satisfies you guys!

Jane's lips are inches from hers and Maura can't help but begin the fight in earnest. She pushes her hips forward and is rewarded when Jane bites down on her lower lip, hard, just as Maura pulls violently at Jane's jacket. All that leather slides right off Jane's arms and it's almost a shame until the shirt is gone too and Maura can feel the whole length of Jane's torso pressing insistently against her own. She barely has any time to get her hands on Jane's impressive abdominal musculature before her own shirt is being tugged insistently over her head.

And that's when all hell breaks loose.

Jane lifts her up and she's sitting on the counter with her back against the cabinet behind her. Her hands find their way into Jane's hair and she tugs. "Tease," Jane mutters into her neck, reaching around behind Maura's back to fumble with the clasp of her bra. The bra is tossed away and Maura has only just kicked off her shoes when Jane gets to work rendering her entirely incapable of speech.

She's lost control of her ability to figure out where Jane's mouth is and where her own hands are. She can only feel the warmth of that mouth, sucking hard at her collarbone, moving erratically over her chest, hardly settling anywhere for any length of time. Torturing her, she's sure, is the plan. And it's working quite well. Meanwhile she thinks she might be literally pulling Jane's hair in her attempts to do something with herself.

Heat prickles along her arms, down her spine, into her fingers and toes and settles low in her stomach, heavy and dangerous. Not as dangerous as Jane. It hadn't even occurred to Maura what Jane would be like in this situation, past, perhaps, the initial fantasy. Jane, when loosed upon a writhing, panting Maura, is downright feral. She doesn't speak. She growls. She grunts. She doesn't seem to have a bedroom or a couch in her plans and Maura doesn't have any intent to argue with that.

Jane's hips thrust forward again and Maura can't keep herself from moaning breathlessly, realizing belatedly that her fingernails are digging into Jane's back. Maura only remembers she has neighbors about two seconds before Jane pushes up her skirt and yanks her panties down her legs. It's all she can do to bite down on Jane's shoulder and muffle another groan as Jane's hand dives back down between her legs.

Not good enough.

"Jane."

Her head falls back against the cabinet with a 'thunk' and she buries her hands once more in Jane's hair. Her hips come forward of their own accord, again and again thrusting needily against Jane's questing fingers. It's not gentle. It's not loving. It's not tender. It's fast and hard and the cabinet shakes until Maura is sure that her good plates are going to fall and break all over the floor. It's Jane's teeth against her ear and wild hair between her fingers and the sound of their breathing and moaning intermingling. It's perfect.

After a few moments Maura's hands fall to Jane's shoulders as she tries to steady herself, but it's really a lost cause. Jane's hardly letting her breathe, between the pace she's keeping and her insistent, teasing kisses. It's embarrassingly soon that Maura finds herself trembling, her back arching and her lips leaving Jane's as she struggles to breathe. She's literally seconds away from release when Jane pulls back and barely touches her, with her fingers and her lips.

Maura whines.

She's fairly sure she has never made such an embarrassing noise in her entire life. She claws down Jane's back in an attempt to make her do something but nothing happens. Jane just chuckles, and there's barely any pressure but there's so much pressure inside of her that she feels like she might spontaneously combust any moment. "If you don't move," she pants, knowing that she's barely coherent, "I'll take care of it myself."

Jane laughs again. She angles her hand up, just slightly, and at some point Maura knew what the name was of that spot she's hitting but she's fairly sure that only about an eighth of her neurons are firing. Maura opens her mouth to speak but a helpless moan comes out instead. Jane's lips are by her ear again by the time she realizes exactly far in over her head she really is, the detective is speaking.

"That's the right spot, isn't it?" she asks, her voice rougher that Maura has ever heard it. She can only moan again in reply, pushing her hips forward. "Should I let you, Maura? Should I let you come? Is that how your fantasy goes?"

Maura shivers. Jane's still not touching her enough and she's not sure which answer will get her what she wants. "Please," is what she opts for, forcing her eyes open, taken aback by the undeniable tenderness in Jane's expression. "Please."

She gets what she wants, in every possible way. Jane obliges and it's barely moments later that she's shuddering, burying her face in Jane's neck to muffle her continuous groans. As if it's her cue Jane drops the dominant role and wraps her arms tightly around Maura. They stay like that for a while. Maura recovers, eventually, though she's not sure how long it is before she realizes how Jane is holding her and gets a thrill of a very different kind.

She shifts and presses her forehead to Jane's, taking a deep breath. "I should have done that a long time ago," the detective says. "Yes," Maura agrees. "But I thought you knew how I felt, so it's partially my fault."

Maura slides off the counter and starts gathering their clothes. She picks up Jane's shirt instead of her own and slips into it without really thinking about it. It's not the first time she's worn Jane's clothes, but this time she does it at least partially because she knows Jane won't fit into her blouse and she'd like to have a little bit longer to ogle. Jane seems to like the arrangement, too. She follows Maura to the bedroom silently, but the smirk on her face gives her away.

She flops onto Maura's bed like she belongs there. Maura likes to think that Jane does belong there- and she really likes to think that Jane's leather jacket draped over the footboard might someday become a permanent fixture. Jane's shirt is all that she's wearing when she crawls into bed. Jane grins when Maura straddles her, but stops her in her tracks when she reaches up to brush her fingertips across where she can feel Maura's pulse. "You're going to have a mark tomorrow," she acknowledges smugly. "Everyone's going to know you're taken."

Maura raises an eyebrow, but she can't help the smile that brings. "Am I taken?" Jane flips them before Maura even knows she's been had, and when she looks up and sees the glint in Jane's eyes she knows she's going to like the answer.

"Do you need me to go over it again?"
"Yes please."

And they do.