So originally I had the idea for this fic probably months ago at this point, and had maybe a hundred words or so written for it, but it just wasn't happening at the time. The other night BostonRocket, inappropriate-sugartits, and I were all talking about story ideas and this fic came to mind. I opened the document and suddenly realized that what I needed was 1st person POV, not 3rd person (not that you really care either way). This is the end result. Thanks to those fabulous ladies once again for reading my crazy stories.

There IS mention of Casey in this fic. A lot of mentioning, in fact, including to sex, but no specific, erm, references, I guess, if you get what I mean. Casey and Jane ARE in a relationship, but that everyone should know by now that ship Jane and Maura harder than I've shipped any other fictional characters in my entire life. So trust me...you're gonna like the way this one eventually goes.

All of that said...enjoy~

Time and time again, Maura has informed me of the benefits of sex, including masturbation, especially placing emphasis on the benefits for stress relief. And every time she mentions it, it never fails to make me cringe. I'm not even sure why. Maybe it's because I was raised Catholic. Maybe because I think it's a private subject. Maybe I'd just rather do than talk.

Casey and I have sex often enough. I think. I mean, I think it's a normal amount.

But that's not the point. The point is I'm in the middle of an incredibly intense case. Tension is knotted in my shoulder blades to the point of tears, and it takes a lot to make me want to cry. Nothing I've done so far has brought me any relief. I've done yoga with Maura. I had a couple of beers last night. Casey and I even had sex last night, or maybe I should say tried to, but I, much to his concern and dismay, just couldn't get off.

I think it bruised his ego more than anything because he left my apartment last night in the biggest sulking mood I've ever seen him in.

But I was so irritated, I didn't give a shit. He got off. I didn't. Couldn't. Whatever.

The only thing I haven't tried to relieve my stress is masturbate. It's probably the first thing Maura would have suggested had I told her how stressed out I've been, but I've been so busy with the case that I haven't seen her much.

So here I am, laying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, forcing myself to try and remember some weird yoga breath Maura has repeatedly told me about that would help relieve tension, but all I can actually think about is how much I just want to get off, if for no other reason than to prove to myself that there's not something even more wrong with me than normal.

"I hate Maura," I mumble to myself. Mostly I hate her because I know she would approve of this, more than she'd approve of the alcohol or even sex with Casey, but that's probably because she has some issue about my relationship and won't tell me what it is.

I think back to the last time I had sex with Casey that ended well for both of us and I realize the only reason why I had an orgasm is because I had my own hand between my legs, touching myself.

Finally I slip my left hand down my stomach and underneath the waistband of my underwear, grazing my clit, down to my lips, parting them. I'm not even wet and this frustrates me even further. I think about the things Casey does to me during sex and lightly rub my middle finger over my clit. Up and down, side to side. Taking my time, trying to tease myself and make myself wet.

Thinking about sex with Casey isn't helping though, so I quickly try to think of some male celebrity for fodder, but can't settle on any particular one.

Suddenly Maura crosses my mind out of nowhere. I flush with guilt and close my eyes at the thought of touching myself while thinking about her and then there's another feeling I hadn't expected.

A rush of arousal.

Her brilliant smile, her ever-changing eyes, her always perfect, shiny hair. I think about the way her eyes sparkle when I enter the room, like I'm the best thing about her day. Her smile always kills me, melts my heart instantly on impact.

Image after image of Maura's low-cut dresses while she's kneeling at a crime scene flashes through my mind. I realize suddenly that I pay attention to them, unconsciously filing a mental note away about every single one. Silk sleepwear in the morning, no bra, hardened nipples pressing against the smooth fabric.

It's impossible to hold back a moan when I realize that my best friend turns me on.

Almost reluctantly I dip my finger between my lips and my suspicion is confirmed.

I'm wet.

And thinking about Maura has made me that way.

I bite my lip in hesitation, stilling my movements.

Taking a deep breath, I release it slowly and remind myself that I'm alone. Nobody can hear my thoughts, nobody will ever know what I'm doing.

Thoughts of Maura continue to fly through my mind as I begin to move my fingers over my clit.

I think back to last summer when Maura and I took a day trip to the beach and just how fan-fucking-tastic her body looked in that blue-green designer bikini. The bottoms hugged her perfectly toned ass and the top...Jesus. I caught myself staring several times that day and had to force myself to look away.

And now I realize what an idiot I really am.

That all the attraction and noticing and desire have been there all along and I've just been too caught up in my own shit to pay any attention to it.

At this point my fingers feel so fucking good moving over my clit and I know release is not far away. Nothing at all like last night. Now I'm nearing the edge just waiting to fly over it this time.

I can't remember the last time my build-up to an orgasm has felt so good. And naughty. Touching myself when I'm thinking about a woman, and not just any woman. Maura. I'm laying on my back, feet flat on the bed, legs spread wide, masturbating to how attractive and sexy I find my very best female friend.

"Fuuuuck," I moan softly, pressing down harder on my clit as my fingers continue to circle it. My toes curl into the bed as I try to imagine Maura entirely naked, mentally Photoshopping her swimsuit right off her body.

But I want, need more.

I release the white sheets my right hand has been gripping tightly and drop it to my hips as I reluctantly pull my left hand from inside my underwear. Frantically I push the no longer wanted fabric down my thighs and kick it away before moving both hands between my legs, my right shoulder coming off the bed slightly as I slip my right middle and ring fingers inside. I curl them upwards, repeatedly pressing that one spot that always causes the most delicious twinge in my lower belly.

And then suddenly I'm imagining Maura's fingers inside me. Perfectly manicured, long slender fingers. Ones that would easily hit this spot that's got a fire burning deep inside me, begging to be unleashed.

I'm almost there and I can feel my entire body right on the edge.

Pulling my fingers out slightly, I quickly push in a third and curl, never stopping my left hand.

The extra pressure is just what I need.

"Mauraaaa," I cry out into my empty bedroom, my feet pushing into the mattress as my back arches off the bed in intense pleasure. My left fingers move faster over my clit, trying to make my orgasm last just a little bit longer.

Finally I collapse back to the bed, pulling out my fingers, my legs sliding back to the bed. I rest my arms at my sides, my body feeling like putty.

I keep my eyes closed as my breaths come in pants.

It's the best orgasm I've had in months, maybe even years.

"Maura?" comes a gruff voice from my open doorway. "Are you fucking serious, Jane?"

My eyes fly open in terror and immediately I sit upright to find Casey standing at the entrance of my bedroom, jaw clenched, eyes taking in the scene before him.

"Casey, it's not what you think," I choke out, trying to think of a still likely piss poor excuse to give him for what he has just witnessed.

"It's not what I think?" he growls. "I just came into my girlfriend's bedroom to find her touching herself while crying out her best friend's name and it's not what I think?"

"Casey, c'mon," I plead. "It's just...this case has got me so stressed out right now and I'm just trying-"

"I tried for nearly an hour and a half last night to please you in every way that I could and you still just couldn't 'get there.' So just now all you had to do was fantasize about Maura for 20 minutes and suddenly that's all it takes?"

"Ten," I whisper, looking down, red-faced and ashamed.

"Excuse me?"

"It only took me ten minutes," I explain, still not meeting his eyes. I want to crawl into a hole and stay there forever.

"Christ, Jane," he replies, exasperated. He slaps his hand against the wood trim of the doorway. "That really takes the cake." He runs his fingers through his hair and turns partially away from me, almost as if he's about to head back down the hallway and right out of my apartment.

When I finally look up, I have tears in my eyes and I try not to blink. "I'm sorry, Casey," I say softly.

"Do you think of her when we make love, Jane?" he asks suddenly, still not facing me. "Is it Maura you wish could be on top of you, touching you, kissing you?"

Realizing I have no choice but to be honest, I reply, "I...I don't know."

Finally he turns back toward me. "You obviously need time to sort out what you want."

A few minutes of silence pass, and for once, I'm at a loss for words.

"I'm sorry, Casey," I repeat.

"Me too," he agrees softly. "I'll come back tomorrow evening to collect my belongings I've left here, if that's alright with you."

I nod in agreement. "Yeah, sure. I'll, uh, just text you or something if I'm not going to be here."

He nods in understanding and then finally turns to leave.

The heavy clunk of his boots on my hardwood floors softens and I hear my apartment door open, then slam shut.

And I'm left wondering what in the world I'm going to do about the fact that I just realized I'm attracted to my best friend.